


Not Dead Yet

by Mad_Stressed



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Conspiracy, F/M, Fake Character Death, Flame Alchemy, Grief/Mourning, Hurt, Hypothermia, Light Torture (nothing too graphic), My First Work in This Fandom, Post-Canon, Post-Promised Day, Slow Burn, Team Mustang - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:26:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22475575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Stressed/pseuds/Mad_Stressed
Summary: Riza Hawkeye is dead. Or at the very least, that's what her obituary says.When a mission in the north goes sideways Riza is taken captive and her unit receives the news of her supposed demise. Team Mustang grieves the sudden loss of a keystone member, while Riza, stranded and alone, must find a way to take down her captors before they move on to the next phase of their plan.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 75
Kudos: 144
Collections: Not Dead Yet





	1. The Mission

**Author's Note:**

> so im posting the first two chapters as a kind of motivation for myself, ill post the third in a few days. I have a few chapters prewritten, but actually having it posted makes me edit better. 
> 
> this is a bit of a prologue chapter anyway.  
> hope you all enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mission in the north goes horribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting the second chapter as well since this first chapter is little more than a prologue.
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Master Sergeant Kain Fuery sat high in an observation tower, surrounded by radios. Somewhere below him, two teams of soldiers swept the streets of the abandoned industrial district. He was in charge of overseeing communication for the mission. Next to him sat Lieutenant Hawkeye, who surveyed the district through the scope of her gun. So far, the mission had been uneventful, but the tension in the air was thick, they were all waiting for the pin to drop.

As the reconstruction of Ishval progressed, direct oversight became less necessary and General Mustang’s Unit began to accrue other responsibilities. One of them being the monitoring of any and all potentially nefarious alchemical activity. Six days ago, they had received somewhat reliable intel that a rogue group of alchemists in the north had somehow come into possession of a philosopher’s stone. 

The original plan had included the whole unit heading north to track down the stone, but problems had arisen in New Ishval, a construction site had partially collapsed, and the General was required report to Central to handle the administration issues that were bound to stem from the incident. So, the team split. Hawkeye had volunteered to lead the mission. Fuery chose to accompany her, while Lieutenants Havoc and Breda were to accompany General Mustang.

Captain Falman had also been requested from Briggs to join the unit headed north. Given his experience in the region and with the team, he seemed a natural choice. Major General Armstrong agreed to their request, pleased to not have an eastern unit in her territory without a northern escort. Captain Falman was not overly pleased to be out in the field again, but had been happy to see his old compatriots nonetheless.

Prior to their departure for the north, General Mustang had pulled both Fuery and Hawkeye aside, giving them the classic “You are both under orders not to die” schtick that had become a bit of a tradition for the team since the events of the Promised Day. The two subordinates nodded and saluted their general, Lieutenant Hawkeye turned and left, but before Fuery could follow her, Mustang grabbed his arm. 

“She’s always watching everyone else’s back, so make sure you're watching hers”, the General warned, “and keep me updated. I want a daily report every evening and additional reports should there be any developments. Standard procedures and codenames should be adequate.”

Fuery nodded mutely, he would have done all of that without Mustang’s directions, but the General was always a bit of a worrier when it came to his unit.

 _“Shit”_ , Fuery was pulled from his reverie by Lieutenant Hawkeye’s voice. She pulled back from her position at the window and stood.

“The team is getting spread too thin, I can't give them cover from here, I need to change positions”, she began packing up her rifle.

Fuery was apprehensive, despite the two privates on guard duty outside the door, he felt safer when the Hawk’s Eye was in his immediate vicinity. And besides, he was told to watch her back, how could he do that if she was on a totally different rooftop? 

But she was right, the team was going to be out of line of sight soon, and while they couldn’t move their radios this late in the game, they could reposition their sniper.

“At least take a radio, we’ll need to stay in touch should something go wrong.”

The Lieutenant shook her head, “That’s too much to move quickly. If things go wrong I’ll report to the rendezvous location, if that’s not an option then I’ll resort to the secondary rendezvous point. I’ll be positioned in that building to the east, just below the water tower”, she gestured out the window before placing a hand on Fuery’s shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze, ”You’ll be fine. If they don’t find anything by sunset, call everyone back, and we'll try again tomorrow.”

Fuery nodded and returned to monitoring the radios, marking down on the map which regions of the district had been cleared as the squads phoned it in. Every few minutes his gaze fell on the water tower, he hoped she’d made it indoors by now, even without heating, the insides of the old structures were significantly warmer than the freezing conditions outside. Fuery shivered, it was hardly even late autumn, but some of the Briggs soldiers were already warning that it was looking like the first blizzard of the season was just around the corner. 

The young Master Sergeant wasn’t able to muse about the weather for long, as the radio to his right burst to life, a voice crackled over the speaker, “Blue Squad reporting in we have movement in the building to the northwest of us, mapped as 22-Charlie, stand by while we investigate. Over.”

Fuery checked the map and picked up the radio to answer, “Roger Blue Squad. Standing by. Over.”

Just as he placed the receiver down, he checked the map again and grabbed the other radio receiver, “Red Squad hold position, I repeat, hold position. Blue Squad is reporting movement to the south east of your current position, building 22-Charlie. Hold position and stand by until further instructions. Over”

The reply came almost immediately, “Roger that, Red Squad is holding position and standing by. Over.” Fuery could recognize that voice as Falman’s.

A minute passed. 

Two.

Three.

Fuery remained on the edge of his seat, waiting. 

Brief gunfire sounded in the distance, followed moments later by the radio. “Two hostiles down, two surrendered, five have fled to the north and the east. Over.”

That worked in their favor, the hostiles were fleeing in the direction of the Red Squad and the Hawk’s Eye. “Roger Blue Squad, sending Red Squad to pursue the hostiles. Over.”

Grabbing the other radio, Fuery phoned Falman. “Red Squad head Southeast, you are in pursuit of hostiles fleeing Blue Squad’s position.”

“Roger that, Com. In pursuit. Over.”

Two gunshots sounded in quick succession, followed by another a few moments later. The echo was much more pronounced than the gunshots from earlier. Fuery smiled to himself, looks like the targets had found themselves in the sight of the Hawk’s Eye.

“Com. This is Blue Squad. We have found our man. I repeat, we have found our man. Preceding to rendezvous. Over.”

That was the code phrase. They had secured the philosopher’s stone. Fuery radioed the red squad.

“Red Squad, we have found our man. I repeat we have found our man. Over.”

“Roger that Com. All targets have been bagged, it seems that someone had been so kind as to cripple some of them for us. We are heading to Rendezvous. Over.”

“Roger that, Red Squad. Over.’’

Fuery sat back and took a breath. After four days out in this cold Hellscape, they had finally managed to find what they were after. He could finally go back to sleeping in a heated room again.

His eyes fell on the building where Hawkeye had made her nest, he wondered if she would wait for sunset, which was still over an hour away, before finding her way to the rendezvous location or if she was able to figure out they’d already bagged the stone. Fuery briefly considered sending a few soldiers to collect the lieutenant, but thought better of it, she’d gut him alive for giving away her position like that.

It took Blue Squad about 20 minutes before they checked in at Rendezvous. It took Red Squad over upwards of 50 to arrive. 

Once both divisions had made it to rendezvous, Fuery called in the privates from outside, and the four of them began to pack up the equipment. The sun was dipping below the horizon as the last bag was packed. Fuery looked to the water tower and smiled, she would give him so much shit if she beat him back to Rendezvous. 

Fuery was about to give the signal to move out when a bright flash caught his eye. He whirled around just in time for a jaw rattling _BOOM_ to send him stumbling. 

Recovering just moments later, Fuery’s eyes widened in disbelief. 

Fire roared a few blocks away and the structures within the inferno were crumbling rapidly. The water tower, and the building underneath it was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is always appreciated, I took up writing fanfics so I could become a better writer for D&D so I appreciate constructive criticism (on anything from plot to grammar to fact checks).
> 
> this is about the shortest a chapter will be for this work (I like to write long chapters, sorry)
> 
> thanks so much for reading!


	2. The Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy gets the news about the explosion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second chapter as promised. didn't want to leave y'all with just a prologue. 
> 
> hope you enjoy!

General Roy Mustang sat at his desk, waiting. 

Being required to report to Central, while two of his subordinates were on a rather dangerous mission in the north, had put him in a sour mood for the past few days. The fact that he was without his most trusted subordinate did not help his disposition either, he was always on edge if Hawkeye wasn’t there to watch his back.

His frustrations at not being able to go north with his team were somewhat abated by the fact that Sergeant Fuery dutifully provided an exhaustive report of the day’s activities. Every day. Just after sunset.

The sky was dark now, and Fuery had yet to check in. 

The minutes crept by and still no report. Lieutenants Havoc and Breda remained in the office with him, both claiming they needed to finish some paperwork, but Roy knew they were just as eager to get an update on the mission as he was.

The three sat in silence. Waiting.

“Maybe he forgot”, Havoc suggested.

Breda rolled his eyes, “Please, have you met Fuery? Fat chance of that happening. Odds are an early blizzard knocked out some of their communication lines.”

Havoc shuddered, “Ugh, I forgot how shit the northern weather is. I don’t know how Falman does it. I hear the women up there are just as cold as the climate.”

The two lieutenants continued discussing the northern cold and dating scene. Roy listened absently as he continued his vigil.

The evening began to wear into night, and still the three men waited. 

It was almost midnight when the phone rang.

Roy lunged for the receiver, bringing it to his ear, “This is General Roy Mustang.”

A voice wavered over the line, “Hello, Mr. Mustang, this is Kate, I was wondering if you're busy.”

The tension in Mustang’s shoulders relaxed a little as Fuery used his codename, “I always have time for you Kate.” He purred, trying to keep up the flirtatious act as he normally did, but his heart wasn’t in it, “How has your day been?”

“We found what we were looking for, but—." Fuery’s voice caught.

They'd found the philosopher’s stone. That was good. But why was Roy’s chest still in a knot?

“But what, Kate?”

“There's been a, uh, there's been an explosion”, Roy’s chest continued to constrict as Fuery’s voice choked again, “And we can't find— we haven’t— Elizabeth hasn’t checked in, yet.”

Roy’s heart stuttered at the use of his first lieutenant’s codename. His face must have shown his anxiety, because Havoc and Breda both moved closer to the desk, looking concerned. 

Roy tried to stop his voice from shaking as he spoke into the receiver, “Kain. Tell me everything.” The pretense of codenames over.

Fuery’s voice crackled over the receiver a little stronger now, “Soldiers from Briggs have arrived to assist with search and rescue and handle processing the prisoners. Falman is coordinating.”

“Kain, tell me what happened to Hawkeye.” He didn't give a damn about the prisoners, not when Hawkeye was missing.

The voice on the line wavered heavily, but began to speak, “Late in the day, as we were sweeping a new section of the district, the squadrons’ locations and movements made it difficult for Hawkeye to provide adequate cover, so she repositioned, she said that she would rendezvous with us at sunset. After we captured the targets we moved to rendezvous. At around sunset there was an explosion. Half a block was leveled. General, Hawkeye was in the building at the center of the damage. That building is—it's _gone._ ”

Roy’s ears rang. _Focus_ , he told himself. He was about to ask for more details when Fuery’s voice cut him off.

“Major General Armstrong is here, I'm being summoned, I’ll call again when there are updates.”

The line went dead, and Roy numbly returned the receiver to its place.

Breda and Havoc were sitting at his desk, directly across from him. The watching him in expectation.

“They’ve secured the stone. There's been an explosion”, Roy raked a hand through his hair, “Hawkeye is MIA.”

The lieutenants stared at him. Unable to find words.

“That’s it!? That’s all the information Kain had!? What are we supposed to do with that!? Sit here and wait all night for more information!?” Havoc threw up his hands, “This is why we should have gone with them! We didn't even need to be here for fucks sake!”

Roy tried to project as much calmness as possible when he spoke, “I am going to stay here and wait for updates, you two are going to go home and sleep.”

Breda laughed humorlessly, “You must be out of your mind if you think we’re going to be leaving you to wait alone. She’s our friend too.”

“Yeah”, Havoc said in agreement, “We’ll sleep when we get the news that she’s been found. Hell, she’s probably in a sniper’s nest, watching the chaos unfold or hunting down one of the hostiles.”

Roy smiled tightly, grateful for the support of his subordinates. But the knot in his chest only tightened. 

Havoc had returned to his desk, and was rummaging around when the phone rang again.

It was in Roy’s hand in an instant. “This is General Roy Mustang.”

Major General Armstrong’s voice sounded over the receiver, “Hello, Mustang. I am currently processing your prisoners, but as I understand it they are still under your jurisdiction”, She said those last words as though they left a bitter taste in her mouth, “I am calling to let you know that they will be shipped to you, at the earliest convenience, along with the package and the rest of your crew.”

Roy tried to leash whatever emotions were rattling around his head long enough to respond, “You will do no such thing until Lieutenant Hawkeye has been found.”

“Ah yes, of course, a state alchemist is in the process of putting out the fires. My men are beginning to search the wreckage as we speak. Someone will contact you should there be any developments.”

She hung up before Roy could respond.

The two lieutenants looked at him expectantly, he waved them off, “Just news about the prisoners.”

Havoc returned from his desk, a bottle of whiskey in hand.

Roy tried to look at his Second Lieutenant with disapproval, but couldn’t quite muster up the energy, “Jean, now is not the time to get drunk. Besides, we are still technically on the clock.... Where did you get that anyway?”

Havoc shrugged his shoulder, grabbing a few mugs from the coffee station, “I keep it here for emergencies like this. And I'm not saying we get piss drunk, this whiskey is too expensive for that, anyhow. Just sip it. It’ll take the edge off of waiting, that’s all.”

He poured about two fingers worth into the mug and handed it to the general, who accepted, before pouring a mug for himself and Breda.

Holding his mug up in a toast he said, “To Hawkeye’s safe return.” The other two echoes his sentiments and drank. 

And so, began the waiting.

After the second hour, they had all had another mug of whiskey. 

After the fourth hour, Havoc was asleep at his desk after having stowed the whiskey, and Breda was dozing in his chair. 

Roy began pacing after the fifth hour.

The phone rang on the sixth hour, just as the sky was beginning to lighten. Jolting everyone to attention.

“This is General Roy Mustang.”

“Hello, General Mustang”, Captain Falman’s voice greeted him, “I'm calling with news about Lieutenant Hawkeye” he paused, as if trying to find the words, “We’ve found her body.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always id love some feedback! ill probably post chapter three around the weekend.
> 
> thanks for reading!


	3. The News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy reacts to the news of Hawkeye's demise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is the third chapter. hope you enjoy!

Roy’s world tilted, he gripped the desk tightly, fingernails digging into the wood. He couldn’t form words, he couldn’t breathe, all he could do was listen as Captain Falman expressed his condolences.

Falman’s voice shook slightly as he spoke, “Her remains will be shipped south to you, along with the prisoners and the rest of your crew sometime in the late evening today. I’ll be accompanying them personally.” He paused, as if waiting for Roy to respond.

Her _remains._ His Lieutenant’s _remains._ Not _her._ Not his Riza, but her corpse. Hot tears pricked at his eyes, his body shook as he tried to breathe. 

“Briggs men will continue to search through the rubble to determine the cause of the explosion. Major General Armstrong will personally send you a report should any new information arise. Again, you have my deepest condolences.” And with that, he hung up.

Roy’s hands shook so badly that he couldn’t even return the receiver to its place, he simply set it onto the desk. 

His grip on the desk tightened further as he grappled with his emotions. His stomach churned. He felt too hot yet his body was starting to shiver. Roy slowly sank into his chair, unable to stand any longer. He couldn't breathe.

Havoc and Breda stood across the desk from him, concern written all over their faces.

It took Roy a few moments to find his voice. After a few false starts he was able to speak.

“They found her body.” Was all he could say before another wave of emotion rendered him mute. Tears pooled in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

“Shit”, Havoc said quietly, raking his hands through his hair.

“Not Riza, how could it be Riza”, Breda murmured.

The two lieutenants exchanged a look, grief shined in their eyes. There would be time to mourn later, right now they needed to help their General, their friend.

Havoc stood, grabbing Roy under the arm as the General shook at his desk. Hauling him to his feet, Jean pulled his friend in close, hugging him tight. Roy clung to the man, breathing in the smell of day-old cigarette smoke and whiskey. He gave a shuddering sob before pulling himself shakily together. 

“Thanks”, he croaked as he released Havoc. Wiping his face with a handkerchief he’d pulled from his pocket.

“C’mon, sir”, Breda said, “Let’s get you home.”

“No.”

The lieutenants stared at him blankly for a moment.

“Roy, cut the shit, there’s no way you're going stay at work like this.” Havoc said.

“Hawkeye is— _was_ Fuhrer Grumman’s granddaughter. I should be the one to deliver the news. Besides, I don’t think I could stand being in that apartment right now. Not yet, anyway.”

The two lieutenants paused, unable to think of anything to counter with.

Roy made his way to the door, steeling himself as he entered the empty hallway. Before the doors closed, he turned to the two men still in the office, “Go home, or to the barracks. Get some sleep, if you can. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

It was too early for most people to have arrived. He made his way to the Furher’s office through the empty hallways on autopilot. The grand oak doors were locked, so he sunk into a chair behind the adjunct’s desk in the foyer, and waited.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, numb, the clock ticking away the seconds. But Rebecca rounded the corner eventually.

“Roy”, she said smiling slightly in surprise, “I knew you were in Central, but what are you doing here so early?” she looked at him a little more, taking in his appearance. “What's wrong?” she asked, suddenly very concerned.

 _I must look like shit_ , he thought. “When the Fuhrer arrives tell him I'm here. Tell him it's urgent”, he paused before adding, “You'll want to be here for this as well.”

Rebecca bit her lip for a moment before nodding and heading off in the direction she had come from.

At some point a cup of coffee made its way into Roy’s hands. He managed a weak smile in thanks, looking up to see Havoc standing there with his own cup. The lieutenant sat down beside him. 

Nursing their coffee, they waited in silence. Just as Roy’s mug was beginning to feel cold in his hands, Rebecca came striding into the room, Fuhrer Grumman and his security detail following closely.

“Ah, General Mustang. Good to see you, again. What's this about urgent business?” The Fuhrer gave him a casual smile.

“It’s best we take this to your office, sir.”

“Ah, well then. Lieutenants, if you’d ex—”

“I must insist that both Catalina and Havoc be present for this discussion, sir”, Roy couldn’t even bring himself to care that he had just interrupted the Fuhrer of Amestris.

Grumman looked at him in mild surprise, “Oh, well, let’s not dawdle then. Into my office we go.”

One of the members of the Fuhrer’s security detail had already unlocked the door, and the Fuhrer stepped inside, closing the doors behind them. Roy took a seat across from Grumman at the desk, Rebecca sat beside him, concerned. Havoc hovered near the door.

“Now, General Mustang, what is it you’ve come to discuss so urgently.”

Roy took a deep breath and began, “As I'm sure you're aware, sir, my unit received intel on a rogue group of alchemists that had managed to get their hands on a philosopher’s stone.” Grumman nodded, Roy continued, “Well due to the circumstances in Ishval, I was only able to send two members of my team to handle the situation: Master Sergeant Fuery and Lieutenant Hawkeye. We got a call late last night.” Roy paused, and took a shaky breath before resuming, “The team has been able to secure the stone, but there— there was an explosion.” His voice constricted, he coughed, trying to clear his throat before he continued, his voice wavering, “Lieutenant Hawkeye didn't make it, her remains were recovered earlier this morning.”

The moment he said it the damn almost broke again, tears welled in his eyes and he bit back on the sob that threatened to bubble up his throat.

Across the desk from him, Fuhrer Grumman seemed to age 10 years in a matter of moments, grief clouded his features as he processed all that Roy had just told him. To the right of him, Rebecca let out a strangled whimper, her hands clasped over her mouth as tears began to spill down her cheeks.

They sat there in silence, grieving. After a few moments, Rebecca reached out and grabbed Roy’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Roy looked up in surprise, meeting her tearful gaze, he squeezed her hand back, tears returning to his eyes.

Fuhrer Grumman was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat, he spoke, “Alright, lieutenants, if you would be so kind as to escort General Mustang home, and then return to your own homes, I would be much obliged. I will make the arrangements to receive my granddaughter’s remains, until then you all have the day off.”

Roy moved to protest, but a sharp look from his superior stopped him, “That is an order, General Mustang. I will call you when you are needed.”

Roy deflated, a hand fell on his shoulder, Havoc.

“C’mon, Roy. Let’s get you home. You too Rebecca. I’ll drive.”

Rebecca didn't let go of his hand until they had left the Fuhrer’s office, Roy let his fingers slip through hers as they made their way down the hallway.

Moments after the door closed behind them, Grumman settled his gaze upon a photo on his desk, his daughter, holding an infant Riza, smiled back at him.

A shuddering breath echoed through the empty office as the Fuhrer of Amestris mourned the death of his granddaughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always I'd love to hear from you! 
> 
> the next chapter will be from Riza's point of view.
> 
> thanks so much for reading!


	4. The Hostage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> let's see what Riza has been up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit longer than the previous chapters, but it didn't feel right to split it up.
> 
> hope you enjoy

Riza Hawkeye was not dead. At least, she was pretty sure she wasn’t. 

_Being dead isn’t supposed to be this uncomfortable right? Is death really this cold?_

Her head rang and the left side of her body throbbed painfully. The air around her was damp and cold, which caused her to shiver violently.

Mustering up the energy to open her eyes, Riza took in her surroundings. She was lying on her side in some kind of cell. Though, cell wasn’t really the right word, it looked more like a stable, mostly wooden with a layer of straw covering the floor. The door and outermost wall seemed to be fortified with metal bars. She was unable to look over the wooden door to see into the hallway from her place on the floor, and getting up felt like an impossible task at the moment.

Her nose told her that there were probably horses nearby, or had been recently. Riza lay in silence, listening. She could hear the distant sound of people conversing, but couldn’t understand anything they were saying. The sound of someone nearby sniffling caught her ear as well. She wasn’t alone here, they may have thrown her in with the horses but her captors weren’t stupid enough to leave her without a guard.

Riza closed her eyes and tried to focus, her memories were jumbled, what had happened?

She’d been with Fuery in their makeshift Com tower, and she’d needed to adjust her position to provide cover for her team. Riza had been hesitant to leave Fuery, she was always more comfortable when she could keep a more direct eye on her compatriots. But she needed to ready to provide backup and she couldn’t do that from the Com tower. 

So, she settled on the top floor of an abandoned building that would better serve as a sniper’s nest. The building itself was crumbling and structurally unsound. Much of the wood had rotted, leaving only the exposed chunks of weathered concrete and steel reinforcements. Still, there were enough intact floorboards on the top floor to support her.

She had picked the spot well, it was perfect for a sniper’s nest, it allowed her good visibility and cover, and was situated right where she would suspect fleeing hostiles to head. 

She had been right. Not long after she had repositioned, there had been a brief exchange of gunfire, and a handful of men fled a building not far from where Blue Squad had been headed. Not wanting to kill anyone for the crime of running away, Riza had aimed to maim. Her aim was as true as always, one shot to the foot sent the first one stumbling, a shot to the knee took another down, and the final got a bullet to the calf. She aimed for the fourth, but he and his friend seemed to have wizened up enough to remain where they were, cowering behind an old overhang. Riza had kept an eye on the hostiles until Red Squad appeared to collect them. The men didn't even put up a fight, they seemed happy to surrender when faced with the possibility of being shot. 

Through her scope she saw Falman gesture to the south, where the team’s rendezvous point was located, Riza looked to the sky, sunset was still about an hour away, if Red Squad was returning to rendezvous early they would be leaving Blue Squad without backup. Either that or Blue Squad was also returning. 

The Hawk’s Eye pondered her options for a moment. Either stick it out in this cold, damp sniper’s nest for another hour or so and make her way back under the cover of darkness, or leave now and risk leaving half of her team exposed. 

It was a no-brainer. She would stay.

Shifting her body to keep her muscles from cramping, Riza prepared herself to remain until sunset. Her attention so focused on the district below her that she almost didn't notice creak of the floorboards as someone entered the room.

Quick as an asp, Riza whirled around, drawing her pistol. A tall, willowy man with dark brown skin stood partially in the doorway. As usual, she aimed to maim and the man went down as she shot him in the shoulder, he would be useless for questioning if she killed him now. 

No sooner had he hit the ground, the floor shuddered, a glow emanating from between the floorboards. The ground crumbled under her feet, and for a moment Riza was weightless. She tried to correct herself as she fell, but still landed painfully on her side upon the broken chunks of concrete. The air left her body as her ribs connected with an unforgiving edge beneath her, her shoulder gave out under her weight, and her head cracked hard against the rock.

The world spun as her lungs tried to bring in air, she tasted blood. Her vision was almost completely dark but she could make out the shapes of people moving around her. Her ears rang badly, but she could hear a deep voice shout, “Hey Alfredo! You still alive?”

The reply was faint, “Yeah! The bitch got me good, though!” 

A rough hand grabbed her good arm and hoisted her up. She barely managed to put her feet under her as they set her down. The hand remained around her arm, its grip like a vice. 

The world was still spinning, and she could feel the warmth of her blood beginning to trickle down her face. Now that she was vertical she could see that there were four other people in the room, two of whom were currently holding her in place. It was likely there were more that she had yet to see. She was outnumbered and injured, there was no way she would win this fight outright, her pistol had already been knocked out of her hand from the fall, and she probably wouldn’t be able to draw the gun at her ankle in time to do any damage.

The man who had yelled earlier placed himself in front of her, “I’ll get right to the point. Where is General Mustang? We have business with him.”

Riza took in the man’s pale, cruel eyes and shaggy chestnut beard, remembering every inch of his face. He was about two inches taller than her, but about a hundred pounds heavier. He was built like an ox, he smelt like one too.

She must have taken too long to reply, because the man grabbed her jaw forcefully and lifted her eyes to meet his.

“Mustang. Where is he?”

Riza looked him in the eye and bared her teeth. She wasn’t telling them shit.

The man’s grip on her jaw tightened, “You're in no position to be stubborn right now, bitch. Now answer the question.”

Riza calmly breathed in through her nose and opened her mouth as if to answer. The man leaned in attentively, giving her the perfect opportunity to spit in his face. 

As always, her aim was true, and the blood hit him right in the eye. He recoiled, wiping furiously at his face. Riza allowed herself a brief moment of satisfaction as she listened to the man swear.

A fist came out of nowhere, connecting painfully with Riza’s diaphragm. She tried to double over, but the hand on her arms held her in place as she wheezed. Her ribs locked in place painfully and her vision darkened.

“Don’t make me ask again, bitch. Where is Mustang?”

Riza took a few moments to regain her breath and gave a slight chuckle, “Who?”

Another blow, this time to the face. She would have fallen to the ground had it not been for the man holding her in place. Spots danced across her vision as the lieutenant danced on the edge of consciousness.

“Don’t play dumb. We know his unit is here hunting down a philosopher’s stone. Where is he?”

Riza forced herself to laugh, but it came out weak and pained, her ribs were definitely fucked up, “You think that a high-ranking commanding officer would drag himself out to the middle of this frozen shitshow, when he could just send a few of his subordinates? You must be a real dumbass if you think Mustang is _here._ ”

The man in front of her stared her down, a look of uncertainty flickering behind his eyes. A low, feminine voice behind her spoke, “That’s not Mustang’s style, he isn’t one to leave his team hanging, especially when something as powerful as a philosopher’s stone is on the line.”

“I can't speak for certain of his whereabouts”, Riza lied, painfully craning her neck to look at whoever had spoken, “I just know that he’s not here.”

“Well then, you just became pretty useless, didn't ya?”, the voice replied. Riza could hear someone cocking a gun somewhere to her left, she quashed the fear that wormed its way into her stomach. The bearded man raised his hand, gesturing for the person behind them to put the gun down.

“I wouldn’t say she’s useless. If I remember the stories correctly, Mustang has a sniper that he likes to keep close.” The man fingered the lapel of her coat, finding the small badge that identified her, “Isn’t that right, Lieutenant Hawkeye?”

Riza didn't dare let her face betray her. She kept a mask of bored indifference in place.

“I’d say that the General’s lapdog is plenty valuable. _If_ we play our cards right. But we won't have time to do that with the Flame Alchemist on our tail. So, we’ll need to buy some time.” He stroked his beard, and studied Riza for a moment before turning to the woman across the room, “Josie. Now’s your time to shine, we’ll be needin’ a decoy!”

A woman stepped forward. She was about Riza’s height and build, if not a little shorter, and her blond hair was a little darker than Riza’s. 

“Josie, be a dear and switch clothes with the lieutenant here.”

Josie complied, and began removing her coat and outer layers, at the same time, a new set of hands began to strip the uniform off of Riza. The lieutenant thrashed, attempting to bite the hand at her jacket, but balked as the movement caused her shoulder to seize in pain. Soon enough they had stripped her down to her black undershirt and the pair of insulating leggings she’d donned that morning. 

She was worried they’d strip her completely, baring her to cold northern air, but they left the rest of her clothes alone, instead opting to remove her boots, backup pistol and hair clip. Josie began donning Riza’s uniform. Soon the woman was dressed in the classic military blues and black overcoat, it took her a few tries to get the signature Hawkeye Hairdo, but eventually she was fully dressed and ready to go. 

Riza remained standing in her socks and leggings, the cold was beginning to seep into her body. She suppressed a shiver, thankful she had chosen her thickest pair of wool socks that morning.

Josie turned to the bearded man, “Alright Bernthal, what’s the plan?” 

_So that was his name. Bernthal._

The man moved faster than anyone could react, striking Josie with a chunk of concrete that he’d been holding in his hand. The blow landed at her temple, and the woman crumbled to the floor. Everyone in the room stood in stunned silence.

“What? We all knew she was cannon fodder anyway. She wasn’t an alchemist or a soldier, and all she’s done is cause problems.”

No one seemed to disagree.

“Alfredo!” Bernthal called, “You were always better at bio-alchemy. Do Josie up like Ms. Riza here. It doesn’t need to be perfect, but it needs to be believable.”

The man Riza recognized from upstairs entered the room, the only evidence of his wound being the bloodstain on his jacket. In his hand, Riza could make out a telltale red glimmer. 

_So, the rumors about the philosopher’s stone were true. He must have used it to heal himself._ Riza thought as she watched Alfredo crouch down beside Josie’s body. The man turned, appraising Riza with a critical eye before he began his work.

“Alright”, Bernthal announced to the group, “Pack her up and let’s get outta here. I’ll blow the block once we get far enough away. If Mustang is here, the explosion should draw him out. If not, then we’ll have to move on to Plan B.” He laid a hand on Riza’s shoulder as he spoke.

Riza remembered being gagged, blindfolded, and led down the stairs and outside. After a short walk along the street, she was lifted without warning onto the back of an animal, her hand restraints were tied to the horn of the saddle, someone mounted behind her. Bernthal’s gruff voice sounded from the ground beside her, “If she starts causing any problems just hogtie her to one of the pack mules.”

The man riding behind her grunted in affirmation.

The group began to move, the clattering of hooves reverberated through the streets as they urged the horses into a gallop. Riza considered trying to bail of the saddle and run, but a tug at the bonds on her wrists revealed that she was secured to tightly for that to be an option. After a few minutes of riding, a jaw rattling _BOOM_ shook the earth, the horses balked in fear, but kept up the pace.

It was not a gentle ride, eventually the group left the paved streets of the industrial district in favor of rougher terrain. Her ribs made it almost impossible to breathe and the jostling of the horse only disoriented her further. Her head spun so badly that she wasn’t even sure what direction they were headed in. It wasn’t long until Riza’s body went slack and she lost consciousness, the cold and the pain finally overtaking her. 

That had been the last thing she remembered, how long she’d been out, and where they were now she did not know. Judging by the natural light shining that shone through the windows, it had to be late morning at the earliest, which means she’d been unconscious for close to 12 hours. 

Shifting her body revealed that her hands were still bound tightly in rope, already she could feel the restraints beginning to cut into her skin. Her legs were unbound, though she was still only wearing socks, which helped to explain why she felt so cold, they hadn’t given her any other clothes besides what they’d left her in.

The ache of the cold in her bones and the throbbing in her head lulled her back into a half-sleep, the voices in the background got louder, closer, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Even as the voices seemed to be coming right from above her, she couldn’t muster up the energy to respond.

The shock of heat hit her, followed immediately by a devastating cold. Riza couldn’t stop herself from crying out. She sat up so quickly the world went sideways. It took her to the count of 34 for the world to stop spinning. After she steadied herself, she was finally able to focus on the muffled noise that had been droning on in the background. The man from earlier, Bernthal, was saying something.

“—a word I'm sayin’.” The voice was muffled, there was a moment of silence before a deep voice yelled,” _'Fredo!_ You need to patch her up a little! It seems we were a tad rougher than we thought!”

The shout sent her ears ringing.

Riza wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but eventually Alfredo entered her cell, and crouched beside her. She was dimly aware of him clearing some of the straw off the floor before he began to painstakingly draw a circle. As he worked he complained.

“Did you guys have to throw water on her? We’re lucky she didn't freeze to death in the night. She’s in pretty bad shape as it is, if you want to keep her alive long enough to use her, then I’d suggest not making her condition worse.”

“Yeah, yeah”, Bernthal waved off the concerns, “That bitch is tough as nails, ‘Fredo. If even half of the stories I've heard about the Hawk’s Eye are true, then it's safe to say she’s not on death’s door just yet.”

Hands guided Riza back onto the ground, situating her head into the center of the transmutation circle.

“How much do you want me to heal?”

“Just clear her head as best you can. The damage to her body isn’t important right now.”

All around her a bright, red light flared as Alfredo began to heal her. Mercifully, her head cleared, the world stopped spinning and the constant, booming throb of her heartbeat quieted.

Riza breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you”, she murmured as Alfredo stood and exited the cell.

Sitting up, she took in her audience with a newly aware mind. Bernthal and Alfredo stood at the stable doors, flanked by a stout, tawny haired woman and a burly, well-groomed gentleman with white-blond hair.

“Alright”, Bernthal drawled, “Now that you can think straight, I'm gonna need you to answer a few questions. We know you were telling the truth about General Mustang not bein’ in the north, our own scouts confirmed as much. Now I'm gonna need you to tell me, where he is currently.”

“East City.” She couldn’t do much to protect the General right now, but at the very least she wouldn’t give up his true location.

“And why’s he not in the north?”

“Business came up, and he was required to stay behind and handle it.” No use lying, it would be easy enough for them to fact check her on this one.

“What kinda business?”

“Issues with the reconstruction of Ishval.” Hopefully if she fed them some inconsequential truths, they'd be more likely to believe her lies.

“Alright, now for the tougher questions. What is the nature of your relationship with Roy Mustang?”

_Why the hell do they want to know that?_

“I have been his adjunct and bodyguard since after the Ishvalan Civil War. Though I briefly worked as an adjunct under the late Fuhrer King Bradley, I returned to General Mustang’s unit after the Fuhrer’s death.” 

“Hmm, that’s it? No secret relationship? No tragic backstory?”

Riza shook her head.

“Really? Damn. Workin’ as a bodyguard for the same guy for years? Sounds boring.”

“General Mustang has no shortage of enemies. I assure you, my job is far from mundane.”

“Fair enough”, Bernthal scoffed, “In your time working with him, how familiar did you become with Mustang’s Flame Alchemy?”

_Very familiar._

Riza kept her features schooled in an image of cautious disinterest, “Not very. I mean, I’ve seen it performed, and I've seen its aftermath. But I don’t know much about alchemy, and in my experience, alchemists are touchy about sharing their research, so I figured it be best not to ask any questions.”

Bernthal nodded, it seemed like her words were ringing true. 

“Do you know if he studied under a master? Did he ever speak of an apprenticeship?”

“I know his master died not long after he joined the military. But I don’t know anything else about any apprenticeship.” The lie slid off her tongue easily. There was no way in hell she was telling them anything about her father’s research. The curse of Flame Alchemy would die with her and her general.

“Besides Mustang, is there anyone who may have become familiar with that breed of Flame Alchemy?”

 _Why is he so hung up on the General’s alchemy?_ Riza thought as she shook her head, “The general always prided himself on the uniqueness of his alchemy. And he’s never been interested in taking on an apprentice. He doesn’t seem to have the patience for young alchemists.”

Bernthal scoffed, “You really are no help at all you know that?”

Riza couldn’t bring herself to care. She was too cold, and all too aware that she was still more valuable to them alive.

Bernthal turned and left, his entourage following him. “We may have some follow up questions later. Don’t go anywhere”, he cackled over his shoulder as they exited the stables.

Riza sat for a moment and considered Bernthal’s questions, dread began to pool in her stomach. They were after her father’s flame alchemy, or at least they had an interest in it. She would readily die before she gave them anything pertaining to her father’s research, but that wasn’t her concern. Roy knew the intimate details of her father’s research better than she ever would. If it came down to choosing between saving her life or keeping her Father’s secrets... She remembered the promised day vividly, he had come dangerously close to performing human transmutation, that fact alone scared her more than death had. If it came down to an exchange, the secrets of flame alchemy for her life, she wasn’t sure the General’s choice would align with her own.

Pulling herself out of her reverie, Riza stood and began to survey her surroundings, she couldn’t see much from her cell, but she added what she could to her mental map of the building, she could see a number of hunting rifles on the wall down the hall, if she could get her hands on one, then she had a chance of getting out of here without being recaptured, but that was a pretty big if. Even with her—

Riza’s train of thought was cut off by a violent shudder. She had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the wet shirt that was rapidly sapping her body heat.

She bit back a groan. No shirt was better than a wet shirt at this point, but her hands were bound, and her shoulder was still pretty badly injured.

Reaching down, she grabbed the bottom hem of her shirt and began to lift, she made it about halfway up to her head when her shoulder locked painfully into place. Breathing through the pain, she lowered the shirt. 

Her shoulder was dislocated, that much was obvious. Luckily it didn't feel like anything was broken. Riza breathed a sigh of relief, a dislocated shoulder was much more manageable than a broken bone.

Grabbing her left wrist, she pulled her arm up in front of her until tears of pain began to prick at her eyes. Then, Riza took a deep breath and gave one final, sharp tug. A bright flash of pain, a _POP_ , and it was over. Leaning against the wall, she allowed herself a moment to relax, she would be sore for days, but at least now she’d be able to raise her arm above her head.

The shivering started up again, reminding Riza of the reason she’d been so desperate to relocate her shoulder in the first place. Grabbing her collar, she pulled the damp shirt over her head. It didn't do much to warm her up, but at least she didn't feel like all the warmth in her body was being leeched out of through her torso.

Turning towards her cell, she couched down and began to gather the straw into the corner, it wasn’t much, but it would provide some insulation. At least it was clean straw.

“Well, well. Looks like you’ve been hiding something from me Ms. Hawkeye”, A deep voice sounded behind her.

Riza froze.

_Shit._

Riza turned to face Bernthal, who stood just outside her cell.

“Now”, the man said leaning against the barred doors, “Why don’t you tell me how someone who “Doesn’t know much about alchemy” came to have a transmutation circle tattooed on her back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as of right now, both Riza and Roy's stories are about at the same point chronologically, though that will change a bit as the story progresses. for a point of reference, Riza was still unconscious when Grumman was informed of her death.
> 
> the next chapter will be back in Central, I've written a lot more for Roy than for Riza (partly bc angst is fun, and partly because he needs to figure a lot shit out if the plot is going to get anywhere).
> 
> as always I'd love to hear from you!


	5. Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy has a moment alone. Angst happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops! sorry I'm late! I got so caught up in the weekend that I forgot to post! we are back to Roy's part of the story and we will stay here for a bit. sorry (not really) about the cliffhanger with Riza's arc.
> 
> thanks to WhiteDoveSails for all the feedback! it's been so helpful!
> 
> hope you enjoy!

With nothing left to do but mourn, Roy Mustang went home. 

Havoc drove. Rebecca sat in the passenger seat. Roy resigned himself to sitting in the back, gazing out the window at the city as the morning rush hour began. Despite the traffic it didn't take them long to reach their destination.

Though he didn't technically live in Central, he was called here so often that it was only practical to have an apartment in the city. So, Roy had found a 2-bedroom apartment in a seedy building to serve as a home away from home. It wasn’t particularly nice, or well furnished, but it was more private and comfortable than staying in the barrack apartments, and cheaper than staying in a hotel. 

Havoc pulled out his key to Roy’s apartment, unlocking the door and opening it for the general. Everyone on Mustang’s unit had a key to the apartment, excursions to Central were a regular part of the job, and it didn't make sense to force them stay in the barracks when there was a perfectly good 2-bedroom apartment just down the road. Despite this, Roy had been staying here alone the past few days, since Breda usually preferred to stay with a friend in the city, and Havoc made a habit of enjoying the Central nightlife. 

They weren’t two steps over the threshold when Roy froze. Sitting patiently, just in front of him, was Black Hayate. The ever-present knot in Roy’s chest tightened, he had forgotten about the dog. Usually Fuery was the one to watch him when Hawkeye needed a dog sitter, but since both Fuery and Hawkeye had gone north, Roy had been charged with keeping an eye on the dog. The three humans stared at the small canine, dumbfounded.

Rebecca, who recovered first, crouched down and called the dog to her. Hayate dutifully complied, tail wagging as he greeted his master’s friend.

“I’ll take him for a walk around the block. Jean, why don’t you make some tea.”

“Oh. Yeah. I’ll do that”, Havoc responded, jumping out of his trance, before heading into the kitchen.

Roy took a moment to collect himself before making his way to the kitchen, where he sat mutely as Havoc boiled the water for tea.

Rebecca returned with Hayate just as the kettle began to whistle. And the three of them sat down at the table, tea in hand. The grief hung thick and heavy in the air, but no one seemed to want to break the silence that had descended upon the kitchen. 

And so, they sat, the clock ticking away the seconds, until their tea grew cold and the sun was well into the sky. 

The taste of grief and over-steeped tea invaded Roy's mouth, it almost choked him as he broke the silence for the first time.

“I appreciate you bringing me home, but despite what you may think, I don’t need a babysitter. Jean, as always, you're welcome to stay here, but I don’t want to be the one responsible for keeping Catalina from her home. I appreciate the company, but what we all really need right now is rest.”

“Roy, I'm not going to leave you alo—”

“I won't be alone, I’ll have Hayate to keep an eye on me”, Roy said, gesturing to the dog, “Take Rebecca home. If all else, I’ll see you tomorrow when the team returns.” 

_The team isn’t returning, not all of them, anyways._

Havoc looked like he was going to protest.

“ _Please_ , Jean”, Roy says, holding eye contact with his subordinate, trying to convey his desperate need for solitude. Havoc seemed to get the message and reluctantly gave in.

Standing, the Second Lieutenant said, “I’ll be back in time to pick you up to report. I’ll call ahead if necessary.”

“I’ll await your call.”

His guests prepared to leave, and Roy escorted them to the door. Rebecca turned, before Roy could close the door, and hugged him tightly. 

_I’ll be damned if I break now_ , Roy thought as the knot in his chest almost gave way. Hugging Rebecca back, he said his goodbyes, and retreated back into his apartment. 

Once he was alone he let out a shaky breath, he knew they'd been holding it together for him, just as he had been holding it together for them. But they needed time to process their grief as much as he did, it would have been selfish to keep them here, stifled by his presence.

Shucking off his coat and toeing off his boots, he began to make his way towards the bathroom. He was in desperate need of a shower.

He barely made it out of the entryway.

The knot in his chest gave way. The dam broke. Stumbling, Roy let out as gasping cry before sinking to his knees in the middle of the floor. The pain he had felt when he had received that fateful phone call returned with a vengeance. He felt as though a gaping hole had been torn in his chest, a hollow emptiness yawned within him, swallowing him up. Tears began to prick at his eyes.

_Gone._

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t breathe. How was he supposed to keep going? They were supposed to fix this country _together._ They were supposed to atone _together._ And now she’d left him behind. _Alone._

_She’s gone. She died alone, in the north, on a mission I should have been on._

His eyes blurred, hot tears began to drip down his chin. A sob wracked through his body, then another, and another. He cried until he was doubled over, the pain so intense that all he could do was gasp and heave.

Black Hayate approached cautiously. Sniffing at the broken man on the floor, the dog tried to lick away his tears. Roy pushed him away gently, “No, down”, he choked out.

The dog did not obey, more persistently pushing into Roy’s face, whiskers tickling the man’s cheek. Again, Roy pushed him away, more firmly this time, “Down, Hayate.”

The dog paused. Watching as the general remained crumbled on the floor. Whining, Hayate began to paw at the man insistently. When Roy didn't respond, the dog got more aggressive. Whining led to barking, pawing led to tugging at his shirt, the dog refused to give up.

Losing patience, Roy sat up abruptly, “She’s _DEAD!”,_ he shouted, “She’s dead, you stupid dog! She’s _gone!”_ his voice quieted slightly and he let out a deranged laugh, “I'm going to have to bury her. I'm going to have to leave her to lie in the dirt, while I—”, the rest of his words were swallowed by another sob.

Black Hayate let out a keening whine, lowering his head. 

“And here I am, yelling at her dog”, Roy sniffled, placing his hand on Hayate’s head. The dog moved forward, pushing himself into Roy’s torso, melting against him. The general wrapped his arms around the animal, buried his face in Hayate’s fur and continued to cry.

The two stayed like that, grieving, until Roy’s stomach gurgled, alerting the general to the fact that neither he nor Black Hayate had eaten anything since early yesterday afternoon. He should eat, wasting away wouldn’t do him any good. Besides, his First Lieutenant would be pissed if she ever found out he had forgotten to feed her beloved dog. 

Releasing the dog, Roy stood unsteadily and made his way to the kitchen. He poured food into Hayate’s bowl and replaced his water, then moved to feed himself. His fridge and cabinets were woefully bare, and he had no desire to eat. The thought of Hawkeye’s disapproval is what had him grabbing a jar of peanut butter and a spoon. Sitting on the floor, he dug in.

Hayate sniffed half-heartedly at his bowl before moving to his water. After he’d drank he sat next to Roy, gazing at the man expectantly.

“I suppose”, Roy said as he grabbed another spoon from the drawer passed the used one to the dog, who licked off the remaining peanut butter, the general sighed, “What are we going to do without her?”

Hayate whined. He didn't seem to have any answers, either.

They stayed on the floor, eating peanut butter in silence and watching the sun filter through the curtains, until the fatigue pulling at Roy became unbearable. He rose and made his way into his bedroom, Hayate followed dutifully. 

The general flopped face first onto his bed, sighing into the mattress. Hayate curled up beside him. Roy lifted his head and looked at the dog in confusion. He and Hayate had always had a what could only be described as a professional relationship, neither had been overly fond of one another, but there was no animosity between them either. This kind of behavior was unusual for the pair, but Roy was grateful for the companionship. Hayate looked back at the general, it seemed he wasn’t too eager to be alone either.

Roy rolled onto his back and gave a halfhearted scoff, “I guess misery really does love company. Got any idea what we should do now?”

The dog did not answer.

Laying on the bed, the tears returned, quietly wetting the hair at his temples. The time to rage and shout and sob would come, that much Roy knew, but for now his body was too tired to do much more than quietly weep. 

It wasn’t long until his grief lulled him to sleep, with Black Hayate dutifully keeping watch beside him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Jean Havoc took another long drag of his cigarette. He was currently parked outside of General Mustang’s apartment, but the Second Lieutenant had stopped to take a moment to himself.

It had been a long day. 

After leaving Roy to his grief, Havoc had driven Rebecca home. The two had mourned together, which involved a little alcohol and a lot of tissues, until late in the afternoon. The past day’s events weighed heavily on them, and Rebecca had been the first to fall asleep. Havoc had carried her to her room and tucked her in, before crashing on her couch. He had been tempted to join her in her bed, but figured now wasn’t quite the best time to push into uncharted territory.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep when the phone rang. 

“This is Lieutenant Catalina’s residence. Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc speaking.” He answered as professionally as he could, not putting much thought into whether or not it was proper for him to be answering Catalina’s phone.

“Lieutenant Havoc, how fortunate, we were unable to contact you with the information we had on hand. Looks like you aren’t in East City right now.” An overly cheerful communications clerk chirped over the receiver, “I am calling with information from the Fuhrer. Your train will be arriving at 0500 this morning. You are not expected to receive the passengers at the platform, but are requested to meet them at Headquarters. You are to report to the Fuhrers office prior to the train’s arrival.”

Havoc paused for a beat, processing the information, “Thank you, I’ll make sure to pass on the information.”

“Oh. And before you hang up... The Fuhrer also left instructions for you to be the one to contact General Mustang. We have not made the call, if you'd prefer us to do it...”

“I’ll take care of it, thank you”, he hung up without another word. Picking the receiver back up, he prepared to call the general, but paused. His eyes had adjusted enough for him to read the clock on the kitchen wall. It was 2:30. Looks like he wasn’t going back to sleep.

With a low groan, Havoc made his way to Catalina’s bedroom. He shook her gently awake, “Hey, Becky. Hey”, he said softly as she stirred.

“Jean?” Her hand gripped his forearm.

“The train is arriving at five. We are supposed to report to Headquarters to receive the team. It’s 2:30 now”, he paused, giving her a moment to process his words, “I’m going to go get Roy. I’ll be back to pick you up a little before we need to report.”

Rebecca nodded, her eyes clearing, “I’ll be waiting for you”, she said, releasing him as she sat up and stretched, “And make sure the general showers, he looked like shit when we left him.”

Havoc chuckled, “I think we all look like shit right now”, he’d said as he exited the room.

Grabbing his coat, Havoc left to collect the general.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unlocking the door to the apartment, he was greeted by silence. Turning on the entry light and venturing farther into the apartment revealed Black Hayate watching him patiently from the doorway of Roy’s room.

Havoc crouched in front of the dog, scratching him behind the ears, “Hey boy. Been keeping an eye on our General?”

The dog wagged his tail in answer.

Jean gave Hayate on final pat before moving into the room. Roy was sleeping restlessly on the bed, he was still wearing his uniform pants, but his shirt was nowhere to be found.

Havoc assessed his friend’s appearance, he really did look like shit. Roy’s hair was a mess and his skin was pale. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced than usual. Havoc’s throat tightened at the sight the scar on Roy’s side. Jean’s own scars from their run-in with Lust had healed, thanks to Dr. Marcoh. But Lust had still left Jean with some invisible scars that would probably never fully heal.

Moving to the side of the bed, Jean clasped his friend’s shoulder, giving him a slight shake. Roy was awake immediately, eyes wide.

“Jean, what are you doing here? What time is it?”

“It’s almost three. The train is coming in at five. We are supposed to report to Headquarters before it arrives.”

Roy’s face journeyed from confusion to understanding to grief before settling into a mask of calm by the time Havoc had finished speaking. He’d been watching the man do it for years, but still Jean was always astounded by Roy’s abilities to hide his emotions. Even from those closest to him. The only person who had always been able to see through the mask was Riza.

“Guess I should get cleaned up then. I probably look like shit.”

“Yeah you do”, Havoc chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, “You're not smelling to hot either.”

Roy gave a halfhearted smile, “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Hey I haven’t showered yet, I've been busy babysitting Rebecca. What's your excuse?”

“I've been a little busy”, Roy said, his mask slipping a bit, the pain evident in his eyes. Jean instantly regretted his question.

The loaded silence that hung between them was broken by Roy. Standing, he spoke, “Feel free to use the other bathroom to get ready, there should still be a clean towel or two under the sink”, and made his way into the bathroom.

Following his friend’s example, Havoc made his way to the other bathroom. It didn't take him long to shower and don one of the fresh uniforms he kept stashed at Mustang’s apartment. In the kitchen, he refilled Hayate’s water bowl, and began his search for food.

The kitchen was empty, it seemed that the general didn't think it was necessary to stock a kitchen he hardly used. It was too early in the morning for any restaurants to be open, so Jean decided to make coffee and call it good. Just as he had finished pouring his cup of coffee, the jar of peanut butter on the counter caught his eye. Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, Jean dug in.

_Coffee and peanut butter for breakfast. Riza would be disappointed. Havoc thought. She’s hasn’t been gone a day and we’re already a mess._

As Jean ate his breakfast, Hayate came into the kitchen, sitting in front of him expectantly.

“What you're hungry?”

Hayate didn't answer, just continued to wait.

“There's still a full bowl of food on the floor. Why are you looking at me like that?”

The dog let out a quiet, impatient huff.

Havoc huffed back.

Hayate stared at him, tapping his toes restlessly.

“No, Hayate. Eat _your_ food.”

The dog huffed again before turning to his food bowl and digging in.

Havoc was pouring his second cup of coffee when Roy entered the kitchen. He looked better, the shower had help significantly, and a clean uniform made him look almost normal. But the spark in his eye had dimmed and it looked as though an invisible weight had settled permanently onto his shoulders.

The general murmured a greeting as he opened the cupboard and grabbed a coffee cup.

“We still have plenty of time before we need to report”, Havoc began, figuring it was best to be professional for the time being, “We will need to pick up Catalina and I'd like to have time to track down Breda, I assume he stayed the nights in the barrack apartments with his academy buddies. One positive of being awake at this hour is that we won't have to worry about traffic.”

Roy nodded absently, “I’m ready to leave whenever we finish this god-awful coffee.”

“Hey, it’s not that bad. Especially when you get so used to the crap they have at Headquarters.”

“That’s because they’ve sacrificed flavor for more caffeine. My expectations for the coffee at work are ankle high.”

“You have a point there”, Havoc chuckled.

The two fell into silence as they finished their coffee. Roy drained the last of the pot and the two moved to leave, each putting on their jackets. Roy retrieved Hayate’s lead and called the dog to him.

“You're taking Hayate?”

“Yes”, Roy said as he clasped the leash to the dog’s collar.

“Is that allowed?”

“Yes, Hawkeye brings him in with her rather often. He’s received military obedience training, it’s all above board.” 

“Fair enough.” Havoc shrugged, locking the apartment door behind them. _I never would have thought Roy was particularly fond of that dog. At best they were indifferent to one another,_ he thought as he watched Hayate walk beside Roy in a perfect heel.

The drive to Catalina’s apartment was silent, neither seemed to have the energy to speak. When they arrived, Roy was the one to volunteer to collect the Fuhrer’s adjunct. He left Havoc and Hayate in the car and returned a few minutes later with Rebecca in tow, opening the passenger door for her before joining Hayate in the backseat.

“I figured you guys wouldn’t have much in terms of breakfast in that pitiful pantry, so I made some muffins while I waited”, Rebecca said, pulling a pastry box from her bag and offering them to the two men, “Sorry Hayate, if I’d known you'd be here I would have brought something for you.”

Hayate whined as both Roy and Havoc grabbed a muffin. The rest of the ride was silent, each passenger absorbed in their own thoughts. The streets and parking garage were empty. They still had an hour before they needed to meet the Fuhrer, but there was no sense in not being early.

Parking the car, the three friends got out, and together, made their way towards the Capitol Building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will also be from Roy's POV. I have plans this weekend, so the next chapter will probably be posted late Sunday or sometime Monday.
> 
> as always I love feedback of any kind. questions, comments, or constructive criticism are all great.
> 
> thanks for reading!


	6. The Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riza's body returns home. Roy is sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little late, but I didn't want to post while drunk/hungover so I decided to wait a bit.
> 
> hope you enjoy!

They hadn’t made it far into the building when they were greeted by Lieutenant Breda.

Heymans gave them a grim smile, “I figured you lot would be early so I thought it best to try and catch you in the lobby.”

Havoc replied, “It’s a good thing you did, I figured I'd have to be the one to hunt you down.”

Breda fell into step beside Havoc, the two lieutenants fell to the back of the group as Rebecca, Roy, and Hayate pushed ahead. Breda seemed content to keep his distance from the group. Though Havoc couldn’t quite tell if that was due to his aversion to dogs or a desire to speak quietly.

“How is he?” Breda asked, his voice low enough that only Havoc could hear him.

“About as good as can be expected, I guess. I’m pretty sure he’s holding it together for our sake, at the moment”, Havoc replied, matching volume, “Though he seems to have grown a bit attached to Black Hayate.”

“We shouldn’t be surprised really, after all, she loved that dog.”

“Yeah, but it’s still weird, seeing Hayate heel for anyone like that, he would barely do that for Fuery.”

“He always behaved for Riza. With her gone, maybe he picked Mustang to be his new master?”, Breda speculated doubtfully.

“You think the dog knows she’s dead?”

Breda shrugged, “It’s possible. Animals have a sense for things, y’know? At the very least he can tell that we are grieving, and he knows Riza isn’t here.”

Havoc, contemplated that for a moment before deciding to let that topic of conversation die, the thought of Hayate having a heightened emotional intelligence unnerved him a little. Changing the subject, he asked, “So, how are you holding up?”

“Not too bad, all things considered. You’d think I'd be used to burying friends, but I never thought I'd have to say goodbye to Riza like this”, Breda cleared his throat, “It hurts, but I’ll pull through. What about you?”

Havoc gave a noncommittal shrug, trying not to dampen the mood further, “About the same. The grief comes and goes in waves.”

Breda nodded solemnly, he looked as though he would have said more, but they had reached the Fuhrer’s office, all noise seemed to cease as they gazed upon the entrance.

Rebecca unlocked the looming, oak doors and let them in. The office was large, complete with a comfortably furnished sitting area, the team settled in. Opting for the comfort of the couches over the conference table.

They waited in silence. The clock ticking away the moments.

Roy dozed on the couch, fading in and out of consciousness, his head propped on his fist. Black Hayate lay beside him, his head in the general’s lap. Everyone else was equally subdued.

The Fuhrer arrived two minutes after the clock struck five, flanked by his security detail. The team stood, now alert, and saluted their commander.

Fuhrer Grumman waved them off, looking tired, “This is a somber occasion”, he said, “let’s not get bogged down in formalities. Our train has arrived and the passengers are en route. We will be meeting them in the east hanger garage. I've brought a few men to help with the hand off of the prisoners. Now if you’d be so kind as to follow me.”

The Fuhrer turned on his heel and left, the rest of the team and the security detail filed out of the office behind him.

The walk was a short one, but to Roy it felt like a millennium had passed before they reached their destination. Black Hayate remained by his side the entire time, an ever-steady presence.

The party stopped in the entryway, though they didn't have to wait long, as a caravan of transport vehicles had parked just as they arrived. The doors opened. Nine men, all of them strangers, sat in chains. Each was unloaded from the truck and escorted by two armed guards. The prisoners were marched past their group. 

Roy took the time to study each of their faces, he would become acquainted with each of them soon enough. 

The next truck unloaded a few somewhat familiar faces, many of them stopped to salute the Fuhrer and the general before following the prisoners into the capitol building.

The third truck yielded more familiar faces. A red eyed Fuery and Falman appeared among the men. Both men stopped to salute, but Roy waved them off. He firmly clasped Falman’s hand, “It’s good to have you back, even if it’s only for a few days.”

Falman smiled grimly, “It’s good to see you again General, I wish it were under better circumstances.”

Roy nodded solemnly before turning to his Master Sergeant. He seemed so young, and the tears in his eyes didn't make him look any older. 

“Kain”, Roy said, not sure where to begin.

Fuery opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t seem to find the words. His lip quivered slightly.

The dam broke, there was no reason for Roy to maintain his composure here, not now, not among friends. His eyes blurred as he opened his arms and wrapped Fuery in a hug. The Master Sergeant returned the gesture immediately, letting out a quiet, choking sob.

The two stood like that for a few moments before Roy felt another set of arms around him, shifting his head to look, he saw the top of Rebecca’s head.

Another set of arms wrapped around them. Havoc. The second lieutenant's eyes were shining.

Breda and Falman also joined. All of them sniffling. Standing there among his friends, Roy felt the gaping ache in he chest lessen ever so slightly.

The group broke apart as the last car in the line parked. It was smaller than the troop-carrying trucks, it was only carrying one person.

The men unloaded the box onto a gurney. And began to wheel towards the building.

_She didn't even get a proper coffin._

The men escorting the gurney stopped in front of the group, saluting the Fuhrer. Roy’s knees weakened as he looked at the box. 

Panic closed in around him, his vision tunneled and his throat began to close. The ground felt as if it was pushing up from under his feet, and Roy felt as though the earth was about to open up and swallow him, just as it had on the promised day. 

The sensation began to ease as they wheeled the cardboard coffin away, towards the morgue.

It wasn’t until the gurney was out of sight did he realize just how heavily he was leaning on Havoc. Both he and Fuery were looking at him with fear and concern in their eyes, they had never seen their general like this.

Regaining his composure, Roy did his best to reassure his subordinates that he was okay.

After his friends had stopped crowding him, the Fuhrer cleared his throat.

Roy turn to Grumman, the man’s eyes were faintly misty, “General, while I'm sure you have a strong desire to return home, we do have a few matters to attend to. If you would be so kind as to accompany me to my office.”

The Fuhrer didn't wait for a reply before turning and walking briskly towards the Executive Office. Roy passed Black Hayate’s lead to Fuery and dismissed his team quickly with promises to meet them in his own office, before hurrying after his superior. The two walked in silence, not saying a word until they got back to the Fuhrer’s office.

“I've had Riza’s Will and Testament brought up from the records office. It should come as no surprise that you were named the Executor of her will”, Grumman said, pulling a series of thick envelopes from his desk drawer, “The state will handle the funeral arrangements. It’s to take place two days from now. You have no hard deadline for dealing with the will, but it would be preferable that the bulk of it be sifted through prior to the funeral.”

Roy nodded, not trusting his voice to speak.

“I have sent the prisoners' documents to your office. But I wanted to give these things to you directly”, the Fuhrer motioned to one of the guards.

The man produced up a black duffle bag and a small box, setting them on the desk between the Fuhrer and the general. Grumman gestured to the box, “The philosopher’s stone that your team recovered”, he turned his attention to the bag, “And this contains Lieutenant Hawkeye’s personal effects from the mission as well as her coroner’s report. Again, you are not under pressure to read it, it’s just best that the executor of the will has all of the available information, to prevent any decisions from being declared null.”

Roy tucked the box into his pocket and gingerly took the bag, “Thank you, sir.”

Grumman opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but stopped, “I’m sorry. This loss will be felt across Amestris”, was all he said, clearing his throat, “You are dismissed.”

Roy stood, gave a halfhearted salute, and left. The bag in his hand felt impossibly heavy as he made his way back to his office.

The team was silent as he entered. Mustang sat at his desk, reaching for the cup of coffee that had been placed there prior to his arrival. His unit looked at him expectantly.

“The funeral is scheduled for two days from now. I plan to stay and sift through the prisoners’ files, though I will not require any of you to be in the office until the day after the funeral. We all need time to grieve, and I won't rob you of that by forcing you to work.”

His team didn't say anything in reply so Roy continued, “We have enough evidence to warrant holding the prisoners for the duration of the investigation. I have no intention of letting those responsible for Lieutenant Hawkeye’s death walk free, but the investigation of the explosion is currently under Briggs’ jurisdiction, there's isn’t much we can do until they're done with their portion of the legwork. Until then you're all dismissed.”

His team remained silent, none of them turned to leave.

“Go home. That’s an order.”

No one moved. Finally, Havoc spoke, “Not without you sir. You need as much time to rest and any of us. And besides”, he added, looking sheepish, “You're the only one here with an actual home to go to.”

Roy sighed, rubbing his hands down his face, “You have a key to the apartment Havoc, just let yourself in. I don’t need to go back right now.”

Fuery was the one to pipe up this time, “Either we all go home or none of us do, General. It’s your call.”

The team all nodded in agreement.

Roy looked his team over, the determination in their eyes was enough to tell him that they wouldn’t give in easily, they could be just as bullheaded as he could when it came down to it. Too tired to fight this particular battle, Roy sighed, “Fine. But some of you will have to sleep on the floor. I pay the rent, and I'm not sharing a bed.”

His men didn't seem to have any protests on that matter.

Grabbing the duffel bag and envelopes from the desk, Roy led the way to the garage, his team following behind him.

No one seemed to be overly thrilled about the seating arrangement. With three people wedged in the back, and three more in the front. Roy sat in the passenger seat, Rebecca was wedged in between him and Havoc, with Hayate on her lap. Fuery, being the smallest, was forced to sit between Falman and Breda. Thankfully the ride was a short one, and before long the team was piling onto the curb. Catalina and Havoc remained in the car.

“I’ll be staying in Rebecca’s guest room until the funeral.” Havoc said as Catalina handed Hayate over to Roy, “figured it would be easier than crowding your apartment for the next few days.”

Roy nodded, a spark shone briefly in his eyes as he replied with a wink, “Yeah Jean, I’m sure that’s the only reason for you to stay with Catalina.”

Before Havoc could retort, Roy closed the car door and led his men into the apartment building.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The team had settled into the apartment quickly, both Breda and Falman pulled rank, which meant that Fuery was sentenced to sleep on the couch for the foreseeable future. 

At some point Breda had gone out to get food, and Roy had his first real meal since he had received that fateful phone call. The mood remained fairly light while they ate, but there was a tension that hung in the air, as if everyone was waiting for the grief to hit. After they’d cleared their plates, Falman produced a couple of six packs, and the introduction of alcohol seemed to help dissolve the tension. The four sat around the table as Falman filled them in on all the northern gossip.

After socializing for a little while longer, Roy finally was able to excuse himself. The exhaustion of the last 48 hours was beginning to truly weigh him down, he needed to rest.

Retiring to his room, he undressed and sat on the bed, running his hand over the afghan Catalina had given him as a housewarming gift not long after his promotion. The grief and anger that had boiled just under his skin all morning, had subsided, beaten back by the fatigue his body was beginning to succumb to.

Laying back, he pulled the afghan around him, and allowed the cold depths of sleep envelope him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room was dark and damp. He remembered this, how could he forget this. The hands holding him in place, the scrape of his knees on the cold, wet stone. 

He remembered everything. The taste of blood in his mouth, the sounds of his allies fighting and losing.

How could he forget this moment? The flash of steel. The spray of blood. How could he forget the look on his lieutenant’s face as her throat was torn open? 

He would never be able to forget the desperation he felt in that moment. He would never admit out loud just how close he came to performing human transmutation. That’s what scared him the most, up until this moment he had never realized just how far he would go. For _her._

He remembered the ache in his chest as he refused to do anything but watch her bleed out. He remembered running to her, holding her, and thanking every god he knew for her safety. 

_Safe. She’s safe. She’s okay._

_No, she’s not._ A wicked voice whispered beneath him.

Roy sat bolt upright in bed, covered in a cold sweat. He shivered. It wasn’t unusual for him to have that dream, in fact it was a regular occurrence. But that voice was new. _What was that?_

The fear and confusion of the dream began to seep out of his body, slowly being replaced by the ever-present grief that had become so familiar to him.

Roy looked around the room. How long had he been asleep? It was dark outside, and he couldn’t hear the sounds of anyone moving about in the apartment, he must have been out for a while.

Turning over, he tried to go back to sleep, but it soon became apparent that he would not be going back sleep any time soon. Flipping on the bedside lamp, he made to get up, but stopped when his eyes settled on the thick envelope on the nightstand. 

Reaching out, he took hold of the envelope, gingerly running a finger along the edge. Taking a deep breath, Roy broke the seal. He pulled out a variety of papers, a few bank statements, a deed to a property that he could only assume was the Hawkeye estate, and a few other legal documents.

Roy set each document on the nightstand, until he got to the last two of the stack. The first was a document with a notary seal. 

It read, _“It is the will of RIZA HAWKEYE that, upon the confirmation of her death, ROY MUSTANG be named the beneficiary of her will, and recipient of her estate.”_

Beneath the statement were a number of signatures, he recognized his lieutenant’s immediately. Gently he traced the lines of her name as he reread the statement.

_Of course, she left it all to me,_ Roy thought, _who else would she have chosen? Who else would she worry about leaving behind?_

Tears began to well in his eyes as he set the document down onto the stack of papers. He turned his attention to the last article. It was a small envelope, on the back the word _Roy_ was written in sensible handwriting.

It broke him.

The tears began to cascade down his face in earnest now. His lip quivered as he tried to stifle the sob that ripped through his chest. He couldn’t do this. How was he supposed to do this without her?

Running his fingers along the seal of the envelope, Roy felt a panic settle over him. He needed to get out. He couldn’t stay in here.

Without a moment’s thought, Roy stood and began to get dressed. Throwing some clothes on, he shoved an extra set into the duffle bag beside his bed. He tucked the envelope into his coat pocket as he opened his bedroom door.

The general almost tripped over something as he stepped out of his room. He stumbled for a moment before recovering. Looking down, Roy found Black Hayate at his feet, the dog had been laying outside his door. The dog looked at him in confusion. Roy stepped over the dog and made his way to the kitchen, pulling out a piece of paper he scrawled out a note to his team, telling them where he was going.

After sticking the note on the fridge, where he was sure everyone would see it, Roy made his way to the door, where Black Hayate was waiting patiently.

Roy tried to nudge the dog away, “You're not coming with. You're staying here.”

Hayate looked at him with pleading eyes and gave a soft whine.

“No. you're staying here.”

The dog continued to look at him pleadingly.

Roy caved and grabbed the leash, “This is only because I don’t want to drink alone”, he told the dog as he opened the door.

The two stepped out into the night. Roy didn't have a car, but he didn't need one, it wasn’t a very long walk, and he needed the night air to clear his head. 

Setting off at a meandering pace, the man and dog walked for a decent number of blocks before finally stopping in front of a small speakeasy. It had been a while since Roy had been back here, he hadn’t visited since the night of its reopening. 

Sighing, Roy reached for the door before he could come to his senses. Maybe it was nostalgia, maybe it was grief, but something had made him think that it was a good idea to visit family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always I love comments! the next chapter will be Riza's, and it will be posted this weekend.
> 
> thanks for reading!


	7. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riza has been found out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as promised its back to Riza for a chapter. it's a bit shorter than usual.
> 
> I meant to post on Saturday, but I got roped into weekend activities instead. oops.
> 
> hope you enjoy!

_Shit._

Riza remained silent. She stared defiantly at Bernthal, waiting for him to say something. 

She didn't have to wait long.

“Ah. I see. Back to the silent treatment again. Guess We’ll have to do this the fun way.” Saying this, he unhitched the lock and flung open the door, the hinges groaning in protest. In two steps he was on her, she had nowhere to run.

Riza deflected his hands as he reached for her. Ducking under his arm, she pushed past him and made a dash for the open cell door. She almost made it, but a meaty hand grabbed a fistful of her hair, and pulled her to the ground. The hand released her hair and gripped her throat. Bernthal’s face hovered above hers as both of his hands closed around her neck and began to constrict her airway. 

“Where d’ya think you're goin’?”, he snarled, his eyes maddened.

Riza gritted her teeth. He was stronger and larger than her, and she was still very injured, but he hadn’t restrained her hands well enough. Her vision was fading, but she had managed to get her hands between the two of them. She lunged blindly upwards.

Bernthal gagged as she hit his throat, but that hadn’t been her target. Trying again, she grabbed his face as best she could, and shoved her thumbs into his eyes. Hard. He let out a strangled noise and tried to recoil as hot blood began to cover her hands. 

The hands around her throat let go as the man recoiled in pain.

Riza took only a moment to fill her lungs before she lunged for him again. Giving him no time to call for help, she wrapped her restraints around his throat. Moving around behind him, she pulled the rope tight.

He groped blindly behind him, trying to grab her, but he seemed to be too disoriented to do anything but flail. As he struggled, he managed one good blow to her injured side, which only caused Riza to bite down on her pain and pull harder on the restraints. 

They stayed grappled in this silent struggle until Bernthal was well and truly unconscious. She continued to restrain him, even after he had stopped struggling but knew that she needed to get going, she didn't have time to make sure that he was well and truly dead. Dumping the body onto the stable floor she bolted from the cell door. 

A quick look at the guns on the wall revealed that they were unloaded, and no bullets could be found nearby. _Useless_. Running for the exit, Riza pulled her shirt back on, cursing the wet fabric and her own impulsiveness. She’d known they were after the general’s alchemy, and yet she still bared that cursed tattoo to the world. _Stupid._

She opened the door as quietly as possible, making it outside she took a moment to take stock of her surroundings.

The first thing she noticed was the snow. The landscape was covered in snow, it rose just above her ankles. The cold wetness immediately began to seep into her socks. The snow wasn’t enough to hinder her movement, but it was enough to make her footprints clearly visible, which was her biggest concern right now.

The second thing she noticed was the tree line about 200 meters to her left. That’s where she needed to go. She wouldn’t make it far out in the open, especially when the snow leaves a clear trial. 

As she made a beeline for the cover of the trees, she noticed another structure next to the barn she had been held in. It was larger than the barn, and looked like a longhouse of some kind. The lights within were on, but there didn't seem to be anyone moving about.

Making it to the tree line, Riza allowed herself to slow her pace, she needed to be careful moving through the trees, one misstep would have her twisting an ankle or leaving a footprint in a rogue patch of snow. As she moved through the dense trees, she tried to slow her breathing, her lungs were already burning from the cold air and her injured side was screaming in pain, but she had to keep moving. Carefully, she began to pick her way up the sloped ground.

She had been moving for about 10 minutes before she heard the first signs of commotion from the buildings in the valley below. Taking a moment to stop, she peered through the dormant trees to see a number of figures moving frantically from the longhouse to the stables. She couldn’t make out any specific words, but she had a pretty good idea what they were shouting about.

Riza picked up the pace, the freezing air stinging her exposed skin. She continued to climb until the light began to fade. She cursed herself, she wouldn’t be able to see anything past dark, and she was likely to succumb to the cold of she stopped moving. A fire wasn’t an option, it may keep her warm, but it would give away her position faster than anything. She would just have to keep moving. Her best bet was to get as far away from her as possible, and hopefully find someplace where she could phone for help.

The darkness of the early mountain night fell completely and Riza’s progress slowed significantly. Her body was wracked with shivers and her fingers were almost useless. The temperature was continuing to drop, and breathing was becoming excruciatingly painful.

Her legs gave out as she stumbled down a small embankment. Her teeth clattered and her bound hands shook as she tried to push herself to her feet. She wouldn’t be able to continue, she’d been at this for hours and her body was beginning to give out. Her fateful decision to don the wet shirt had proved to be a bad one, as the fabric was now freezing to her skin.

Getting her knees under her, she was able to crawl towards one of the larger outcroppings, and wedged herself into a small, relatively sheltered alcove. She cupped her hands over her mouth both to warm her frostbitten fingers, and to prevent a cloud of breath from giving away her position.

And so, she hid. The heat of her body was practically gone, she could see the light of the one of the searchers in the distance. She would not get out of this, sooner or later they would find her. And if they didn't find her soon, she would not make it to see the sunrise. 

She waited. For death or discovery. Whichever came first. 

She wasn’t sure which she hoped for. 

No, that’s not true. She hoped for death.

Let her die before the secrets of her father’s alchemy can be discovered and unleashed upon the world. Let all the pain she has had to endure fade into the blackness. Let her body be torn apart by scavengers, let the foxes and vultures erase what’s left of that cursed mark on her back. 

The lights were closer now. 

_Not close enough,_ she thought smugly.

She closed her eyes. It was time.

Riza allowed herself to let go, allowing the cold take her. A feeling a peace began to wash over her, and she welcomed the blackness looming before her. Though as she began to drift off, her thoughts turned sad. Riza would miss those she loved, and she didn't wish to cause them grief. They had all gone through so much already.

Regret colored her thoughts as she continued to drift. There were so many things that she wouldn’t get to do. 

She wouldn’t get to attend Edward and Winry’s wedding. 

She wouldn’t get to set Rebecca and Havoc up on that date. 

She wouldn’t get to take Black Hayate to the park again. 

She wouldn’t get to see General Mustang become Fuhrer. 

_Oh, Roy._

Her death would hurt him deeply, they had promised to atone for their sins _together,_ and now she was leaving him. A sense of longing pulled at her heart. There were so many things she wouldn’t get to do with him. So many things she had left unsaid.

 _I guess I'm going to have to disobey your orders one last time. I'm so sorry, Roy._ She thought as the darkness crept in. _Forgive me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always I love hearing from y'all. 
> 
> the next chapter will be back to Roy. and I plan to post it some time next weekend.
> 
> thanks for reading!


	8. Home Sweet Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy goes home for a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longer chapter this time, hopefully that makes up for the shortness of the last chapter.
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Chris Mustang was wiping down the bar when the door jingled open.

“We’re closed”, she called without looking up, last call had been half an hour ago, but that didn't stop the occasional straggler from finding their way in. Usually, Madame Christmas would simply charge the poor drunkard triple the price and send them on their merry way, but not tonight, it was a somber evening tonight.

The man at the door answered wryly, “I was hoping you would make an exception, on account of me being family and all.”

Chris looked up from her work to see her nephew standing in the doorway, a duffle bag over his shoulder and a dog leashed at his side.

Madame Christmas looked Roy over with a critical eye, noting his pale skin and rumpled shirt, “You look like shit.”

Roy smiled humorlessly, “I've heard that a lot recently, can't seem to put my finger on why”, he sat down at the bar, “Though, I'm sure your informants have already gotten word to you.”

Chris softened at his words, “I’m not as well informed as I was back in Bradley’s time, but I heard about Elizabeth this morning”, she said, pouring him a drink, “I also heard that you’ve been in town the last four days.”

Roy winced at the unspoken accusation in her words, “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to be here for so long. If I had known, I would have checked in with you earlier.”

His aunt waved him off, pouring a drink for herself as well, “You're a grown man, you don’t need to check in with me anymore. And I'm not some lonely old woman in need of visiting, I have plenty to keep me occupied here without you dragging me into more trouble.”

The conversation ceased, and the two sat in silence, sipping their bourbon. It wasn’t until Chris was refilling Roy’s glass that she broke the silence.

“So... why are you here exactly? And why did you bring the dog? You know the bar has a no animal policy.”

“I’m here to visit family”, Roy said simply, “And to drink away the days until the funeral. As for the dog... he was Elizabeth’s.” It was easier to say his lieutenant’s code name, somehow it didn't feel so final when he referred to her in the past tense with that name.

“Well, there's an empty room upstairs, and the girls have been asking about you since the news came in, I'm sure they'd be happy to see you. As for drinking your days away... your welcome to anything behind the bar, but I'm charging you full price.”

Roy gave a light chuckle, “I’d expect nothing less from the infamous Madame Christmas. But I was still hoping for some type of Friends and Family Discount.”

“Well keep hoping, Roy-Boy, cuz that won't happen anytime soon.”

Roy sighed and grabbed the bottle that Chris had set on the counter, “Just put it on my tab.”

Madame Christmas nodded before disappearing upstairs. Roy took off his coat poured himself another glass and threw it back, ready to wallow in his sadness. He had resigned himself to staying at the bar and drinking alone for the night, but his plans changed as an eruption of noise echoed from upstairs. The girls had received word of his arrival.

Despite his grief, Roy couldn’t but help but feel a burst of fondness as his adopted sisters ran down the stairs to greet him. No sooner had the mob reached him were they pulling him up the stairs, Roy didn't even have time to grab the bottle before he was swept onto the second floor.

As glad as he was to see the girls, he dreaded the thought of talking. He wasn’t ready for that, he couldn’t speak his loss into existence. Not yet. His fears were assuaged when it became apparent that the girls were more than happy to talk for him. 

And so, Roy Mustang spent the night crammed into a room with his adopted sisters. He sat mutely, listening as they cooed over Black Hayate and shared their own grief. 

It seemed that each of them had a different story to tell about his first lieutenant, many of them Roy had never heard, it seemed that the infamous Riza Hawkeye had touched more lives than even Roy had been aware of. The thought made him sad, that there were sides to her that Roy would never get the chance to witness. Yet, he cherished every story they shared, every new piece of information was a blessing, bringing him just a little closer to his beloved lieutenant.

Veronica had the most stories to tell, she was always seemed to be around when Riza visited the bar.

“Do you guys remember Creepy Stu?” Veronica asked the group. A number of the girls nodded, some of them even shuddered.

“Well Riza’s the reason he doesn’t come around here anymore, she broke his hand when she found out he’d been harassing some of the girls, told him if he ever came back she’d castrate him. I’m pretty sure the creep wet himself before he scurried out of the bar.”

The girls laughed at that, and Roy smiled. Riza had always been a protector, she wasn’t just watching his back, but his family’s. His chest ached, _I didn't have her back when it mattered._

He was pulled from his thoughts as Veronica started another story. “Have you guys heard the story about the first time I met Riza? It went horribly. Roy had...”

He knew this story, he had taken Hawkeye to the bar to introduce her to some of the girls, it seemed like a good idea for his right hand and his informants to be familiar with one another. He hadn’t told her that it was his aunt’s bar, and when Roy had walked behind the counter and started making drinks, Riza had been rather confused. He and his sisters had found it hilarious, Riza, however, was a bit miffed.

Warmth bubbled in his chest at the memory, and Roy laid his head back and listened to Veronica tell the story. Surrounded by family, Roy felt a quiet form of peace wash over him. The grief was still there, it would probably never really leave him. But it almost felt like he would be able to bear it, as if he would be able to make it through, somehow. As the girls continued to chat and joke, Roy felt his eyelids begin to grow heavy. Somewhere amongst family, he was able to find sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roy slept peacefully for the first time in a while, only to wake as the mid-morning light filtered through the curtains. The room was empty except for Black Hayate, who was lying beside him on the bed. The dog perked up when Roy stirred, wagging his tail. 

Roy scratched the dog behind the ears as he looked around the room. A cup of coffee and a plate of eggs sat on the nightstand. A newspaper was folded under the plate. The eggs had gone cold, but the coffee was still somewhat warm. Roy ate most of the food, leaving a portion of the eggs for Hayate to finish, and settled in with his coffee to read the paper.

It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. In the near back of the paper he found her picture, the same one that could be found in her personnel file. The obituaries page was never one that Roy usually read, he’d had to deal with enough death in his life, no need to read about it, but he would read hers, he owed her that much, at least.

The Obituary of Riza Hawkeye was a short one, it took up less space than most of the others and consisted of only four sentences.

_“First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye died while on assignment in Northern Amestris at the age of 28. She had served as a sniper during the Ishvalan Civil War and defended the late Fuhrer Bradley during the attempted coup in 1915. Lieutenant Hawkeye survives by her maternal grandfather, Fuhrer Grumman. She will be remembered as a fierce friend and a loyal soldier.”_

Below that there was a line about when and where the funeral would take place tomorrow, in addition to the address of the state funeral venue, where flowers could be sent.

Roy put down the paper and scoffed, the knot in his chest began to tighten again, “A _loyal soldier_ ”, he said, looking at Black Hayate, “That’s the best they could come up with? Four sentences and a generic sendoff? For the Fuhrer’s granddaughter no less? They couldn’t put in a little more effort for her?” 

The knot in his chest turned hot. Grief turned to anger, and Roy tore the paper in half before standing up abruptly. He wanted so badly to burn something. 

Hayate looked on in concern as Roy raked a hand through his hair. Breathing deeply, he calmed the fire that burned in his gut. Anger would do him no good now, and Chris would string him up from the nearest streetlight if he started burning things in her home.

Once Roy was sure that the turmoil within him had calmed, he opened the door, calling Black Hayate to follow him as he carried his dishes downstairs. The bar wasn’t yet open, it was too early for even the most severe alcoholics to make an appearance, and Chris didn't open for the lunch crowd. 

Vanessa greeted him as he made his way into the kitchen. She was standing over a large pot of something, lunch from the smell of it. She must have been assigned food duty for the day. 

Roy brought his dishes to the sink and began to get to work.

“Roy-Boy doing dishes?”, Vanessa laughed, “Looks like all those years in the military finally shaped you into an actual adult.”

“Ha ha”, Roy laughed sarcastically, before he could retort, Vanessa cut him off.

“Next you'll tell me you do your own laundry”, she wiped away a fake tear, “I never thought I'd see the day. My little boy is all grown up.”

“I’m older than you.”

“And yet this is the first time I've ever seen you do your own dishes. You’ve always dumped them off on me.”

“When was the last time I had you do my dishes? I do my best to avoid eating here, there's a reason Chris doesn’t open for the lunch crowd.”

Vanessa opened her moth to protest, but stopped, “Okay you got me there, you may do your own dishes, but there's still no way you do your own laundry.”

Roy didn't answer right away. He finished drying his plate and set it back in the cupboard. His silence was all the confirmation she needed.

_“I KNEW IT!”_

“It’s not like _that!_ The military uniforms have to be laundered specially, so we don’t wash our work clothes at home.”

“That’s a pretty shit excuse, Roy-Boy. You can't claim to be a functional adult when someone else is doing your laundry.”

“I think the fact that I’m a high ranking general in the Amestrian military would qualify me as an adult.”

“Oh, fat chance of that. Yeah, you may be a military bigshot, but can you iron your own pants? I think not.”

Roy grabbed the nozzle at the sink and pointed it at his sister, “I may be mediocre when it comes to laundry, but I've been told my aim is pretty decent.”

“Don’t you dare.” 

Roy squeezed the nozzle, cold water sprayed all over the dark-haired woman. Vanesa shrieked. And Roy laughed, really laughed, for the first time in days.

“Oh, now you’ve done it!”

Before Roy could react, Vanessa grabbed the ladle in the pot on the stove and whipped it towards him.

Hot soup splattered across his chest and face. The heat didn't bother him, years as the Flame Alchemist had made him accustom to high temperatures. He didn't even care that his shirt would probably be stained beyond repair, but it was the principle of the matter, he had to defend his honor.

Aiming the nozzle again he let the water spray once again. Grabbing the pot and ladle, Vanessa ducked behind a table, waiting for the torrent to stop before flinging another ladle of soup in his direction. This onslaught continued for a few moments, both of them shouting profanities at the other.

 _“What the hell_ is going on back there!?”

The two stopped their battle just as Chris Mustang rounded the corner, her brow scrunched as she took in the scene before her. She looked as though she was about to yell at them, like she had when Roy had been a child, but her eyes softened as she looked at him.

“It’s good to know you can still smile”, Chris said, “Now make sure this is all cleaned up by lunch.”

And with that, the Madame exited the kitchen. Vanessa cackled, “For a second there, I thought we were toast.”

Roy chuckled as well, his melancholy beginning to return. Grabbing a towel, he began to wipe up the water that had been sprayed across the kitchen. Vanessa followed suit, and began to wipe down the table. Black Hayate was also doing his part, licking up the soup that had been splattered across the floor.

They worked quietly for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, once they were almost done, Vanessa paused her work to watch her brother as he worked to wipe down the counter next to her.

Grief seemed to radiate off of him, etched into every line of his form. His sadness was quiet and stifling, she could feel it from across the room. It seemed that Riza’s death had truly broken him.

“You were in love with her, weren’t you?”

“What? Where is this—”

“Don’t play stupid with me Roy, we all know you had more than just _platonic_ feelings for Riza.”

“I do— “

“And the sooner you acknowledge it, the sooner you can begin to grieve properly. Because right now you're holding too much in. It’s not healthy.”

“I kno—“

“And I don’t give a shit about those “Fraternization Laws” you liked to bring up so much. That’s just a flimsy excuse you hide your feelings behind, we all know that—“

“Vanessa”, Roy spoke quietly.

She quieted, her rant faltering as she met his eyes.

“Please don’t make me do this, not now.” His voice was soft, pleading. He wasn’t sure he had the strength to confront his feelings. He had always known that he had loved Riza, but saying those words out loud, that was something he wasn’t sure he’d ever truly be ready for.

Vanessa must have understood, “Okay”, she said, “I won't push you just yet.”

Roy smiled in thanks, not quite trusting his voice to speak.

She moved as if she was going to hug him, but stopped when she saw his shirt, “You better go get cleaned up before lunch. And take your coat to the room with you, you left it on the bar last night.”

Roy nodded silently, grabbing his coat from the bar counter and headed upstairs to change, Black Hayate following him closely. He tossed the coat onto the bed as he entered the room.

Shucking off his shirt he grabbed the duffle bag and set it on top of the coat, intent on finding his other clean shirt, but the sound of crinkling paper beneath the bag got his attention. He moved the bag to the side. Opening up his coat, his hand brushed something in the inner pocket. Roy reached in and withdrew the small box and a letter addressed to him. 

He set the box down on the nightstand, and turned his attention to the letter his fingers running along the seam of the envelope. He should read it. She meant for him to read it. But it felt so final, these were her final words to him. The moment he read them, she would have no more to say. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand the silence that would follow.

Roy looked at Black Hayate as he pondered his choices, the dog stared back, offering no advice.

He imagined the familiar scene of Riza standing in front of him, her face deadpan as she told him to stop procrastinating. The memory brought a ghost of a smile to Roy’s face. There was no point in waiting, it only delayed the inevitable. Besides, she’d be pissed if she ever found out he refused to read her final words.

Carefully tearing the envelope open, Roy removed the letter. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he began to read:

_“Roy,_

_I'm sorry.”_

Those words alone nearly broke him. She’s apologizing, even though he's the one who failed her. Tears began to prick at his eyes. God, he missed her, more than words could describe. Her absence felt like a wound in his very soul, it caused an ache that seemed to grow every day

Taking a deep breath, he tried to gather himself, it took a few moments before he felt ready. Bracing himself, he restarted the letter.

_“Roy,_

_I'm sorry._

_If you’re reading this then that means that I've disobeyed your orders one last time. I know we were supposed to atone for our sins together, but it looks like you'll have to do the last leg of this journey without me. The banker recommended I include my funeral requests in this letter, but I don’t really care about that. Funerals are for the living, not the dead._

_Since these are more or less my last words to you, I will try to make them profound, but before we get to that, I have a few requests:  
1\. Take care of Black Hayate. I know the two of you aren’t the biggest fans of one another, but he respects strong authority figures, and Kain is too kind to be fit for such a role.  
2\. Keep your promise. The flame dies with you now.  
3\. Don’t push the team away, especially now. With me gone, you'll need them to watch your back.  
4\. Become Fuhrer. Finish what we started. Atone._

_I want you to know that while I have a great many regrets, following you is not one of them. You’re a jackass, but I could never bring myself to regret you. You are one of the brightest lights in my life, and I am better having known you. I love you more than either of us will probably ever truly know. Thank you, for everything._

_Love,  
Riza”_

The tears that had gathered began to flow in earnest now. He reread the last paragraph over and over, he continued to read it even after he was sure he had already memorized it. As if reading it would fill the emptiness that yawned within him. As if knowing she’d loved him made saying goodbye any easier. 

She may not regret him, but he regrets dragging her into the military every day, and he’ll never stop. He will never forgive himself for what she went through, or what he did.

A quiet sob ripped through his chest, he clutched the letter like a lifeline as all the grief he’d held in earlier came tumbling out of him. Hayate jumped onto the bed beside him, and settled against Roy’s thigh as the man continued to sob.

Eventually the tears in his eyes were so thick that he could no longer see the words on the page. His eyes wandered, settling on the box on the nightstand.

He hated it. The stone. The culmination of so many nameless souls. She’d died for it. 

Without thinking, he reached out and plucked the box from its place on the nightstand. Roy opened the box and dumped the stone into his hand. So much power literally at his fingertips, and still he couldn’t do anything for her. He couldn’t bring her back, even with a philosopher’s stone. Rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, he gazed at the small red sphere. His stomach turned, nausea began to creep up his throat.

It didn't feel right. It didn't feel _wrong_ like it was supposed to.

This wasn’t the way a philosopher’s stone was supposed to feel. His limited experience with the stones had left a lasting impression on him. He remembered feeling the aura of power and _wrongness_ from it. Even as it had been used to heal him, it had felt unnatural.

The stone in his hand had none of that. It felt no different from any other ordinary stone.

It was a fake.

A sham.

His lieutenant had died for a _lie._

_No._

His vision turned red. The anger he had felt earlier had returned in full force.

Standing up, he threw the stone against the wall, it shattered. Blood red shards sprayed all over the carpet. 

Hayate jumped to the floor with a startled bark.

Roy breathed heavily, the only thing keeping him from lighting the room on fire was the fact that he had left his spark gloves in his apartment. Grabbing the duffle bag, he chucked it against the wall, its contents spilled out slightly as it hit the ground.

Still blinded by his rage and tears, he punched the wall next to him, pain arced through his hand, grounding him enough that he could hear the shuffling noise that was coming from the other side of the room.

Blinking away his tears, Roy turned to see Black Hayate frantically digging at the duffle bag he’d thrown against the wall. His anger abated further as he heard the dog let out a pitiful whine. Crossing the room and kneeling beside the creature, Roy placed a hand on his back. The dog paused his digging, backing up enough to let Roy see what he had been poking at.

Any lingering anger turned to sadness once again when Roy remembered that this was the duffle bag that Grumman had given him. Reaching into the bag, Roy pulled out an efficiently packed bundle of clothes that were not his own.

Black Hayate lunged for the bundle, rubbing his face on the clothes, whining. Roy set the clothes down for the dog and pulled out the remaining contents, there wasn’t much. Riza usually only packed the essentials. He found a few pairs of socks and was continuing to dig when his fingers closed around a manila envelope.

His heart in his throat, Roy removed the coroner’s report from the bag. His hands trembled as he ran a finger along the edge of the papers. 

He didn't want to read it. He didn't want to know the details of her death. He didn't want to know how that explosion ended her life. He knew what fire did to those it consumed, and the thought of her going out like that made him sick to his stomach.

But he would read it anyway. He had to know. Because wondering was always infinitely worse than knowing in the end.

Sucking in a shaky breath, Roy sat on the floor against the wall, and opened the file.

An envelope of pictures was on the top. Roy put that to the side, unopened, he didn't need to see those. Not yet, anyway.

The report was the next thing in the file. Roy had read enough coroner’s reports that he was familiar with the layout. The first page would be filled with the quantitative data, such as height, weight, and blood chemistry. The second page would have a diagram, marking all wounds, bruises, scars and any other identifying features the coroner noted. The third page would be where the coroner interpreted the data, and it was the only page that Roy usually payed any attention to. 

Flipping to the third page, he began to read:

_“Cause of death is unclear, but majorly attributed to smoke inhalation and asphyxiation, as evident by the carbon residue in the lungs. Grave head and body trauma as well as severe burns and contusions were observed, but whether or not they were sustained postmortem is unclear due to...”_

The report began to throw around more technical terms, but Roy needn’t read any further, he had his answer. Best case scenario she was that she was smothered by the smoke. His whole body trembled, _She didn't deserve that,_ he thought, _She didn't deserve any of this_. His vision blurred once again as he flipped the page back. The marked diagram on the second page looked more like a small child’s coloring book than an official document. X’s and dashes covered both human shaped outlines.

According to the diagram, most of the left side of her torso had burned, the fire had been extinguished before it could consume her entirely, but a majority of legs and arms had been in contact with the flame.

Nausea overcame him in that moment, and he barely made it to the trashcan before the bile came bubbling up his throat. He vomited into the trashcan, the remnants of his breakfast making a reappearance tried to pull himself back together. Even after his stomach had emptied, he remained over the trashcan, dry heaving and sobbing. Black Hayate kept his distance this time, watching intently as the broken man shuddered on the floor.

It took a while, but eventually Roy had recovered enough to pull himself away from the trash can. He laid on his side, curling into himself as he shivered. The file laid in front of him. 

Roy’s fingers seemed to move on their own accord, gingerly tracing the lines of the body diagram, memorizing the burns and the bruises. He brushed over the charred side, over her face and onto the shoulder. Moving from one diagram to the other he continued on one shoulder, across her unmarred back and onto the next shoulder.

_Wait_

_Her back._

_That’s not right._

Roy’s heart ached as he remembered the weeks he’d spent studying the ornate circle that adorned her back. The ache intensified as he remembered the day he burned it away.

_Focus._

The report should have mentioned something about the tattoo. It was standard protocol to note any and all identifiable markings. Roy looked closer at the diagram. The left side of her lower back was significantly burned, but even with that kind of damage, the circle should have still been visible. 

A spark of emotion that Roy was too scared to name flared in his chest. Flipping to the front page he began to read the numbers. They weren’t quite right, his Riza wasn’t that short, we weight was too low. Her blood type was wrong as well, she was B+ not B-.

It didn't add up. 

_How had they not noticed this earlier?_

Roy scrambled to his feet. Throwing his belongings into the duffle bag, he rushed for the door, calling Hayate to follow. 

He had work to do.

Because his emotions rang in his ears and his thoughts pounded in his head, one thing remained crystal clear: Riza Hawkeye was not dead. At least, not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always I love to hear from y'all, comments make my day.
> 
> a few notes of importance:  
> 1\. it will be a while before the next update. I have three exams this week as well as a number of research projects coming due. so my time is going to be focused on schoolwork for the time being. that being said, there is a chance my university will close the campus soon, as COVID-19 has been confirmed in a number of surrounding counties. if my campus goes into quarantine then there is a good chance that I will have time to write. (always a silver lining I suppose)
> 
> 2\. since it will be a while before I can get the next chapter up ill let you guys pick who gets the next chapter. I have the skeletons for both Riza's and Roy's next chapters so ill let you pick who you get to see next.
> 
> thanks so much for reading!


	9. A Second Opinion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy brings his findings to the team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> looking back on my last note I have to laugh at the fact that I thought online classes would somehow afford me more free time. well, hindsight is 20/20 I guess. anyway, ill leave my other excuses for the end of the chapter.
> 
> anyway, y'all voted and if I counted right then Roy's chapter won (by like one vote) so here it is (technically this chapter is told from Havoc's POV tho). enjoy!

Jean Havoc sat at the kitchen table in Roy’s apartment, interrogating Breda and Falman. Rebecca was at the stove, making lunch for the team. Fuery stood beside her, chopping vegetables.

It seemed the void left by Riza’s death didn't feel so painfully empty when he was around friends. The mood was still somber, but Havoc had felt a little lighter than he had yesterday. That was, until, he had arrived at the apartment to find his friend missing.

Havoc continued to grill Breda and Falman, “So you're telling me he just up and left in the middle of the night? With Black Hayate? And none of you woke up for that?”

“Hey, don’t look at us”, Breda shot back, “we were asleep in the guest bedroom, Fuery was the one sleeping closest to the door.

Fuery said nothing, just ducked his head and continued to methodically chop the whatever was in front of him, his position at the counter had shielded him from Havoc’s attention so far, and he seemed intent to keep it that way.

But Jean didn't take the bait, the kid had had it rough these past few days, instead keeping his focus on the two men at the table.

“So, none of you were worried when you couldn’t find him?”

Falman was the one to reply this time, “We thought he was just sleeping in! It’s been a hard time for us all, especially him. It wasn’t until Fuery found the note on the fridge that we realized he wasn’t here.”

“And you didn't think to call us and let us know that _the General is missing!?”_

Breda waved him off, “You guys were coming over anyway, telling you beforehand wouldn’t have been productive. Besides, he's not _missing_ he told us he was going out.”

“Yeah because the note was real specific”, Havoc read aloud from the scrap of paper, _“Going out. I’ll be back some time before the funeral. –Mustang._ What the hell are we supposed to do with that? What if he’s dead in a ditch somewhere? What if he’s been kidnapped?”

“Oh, shut up Jean”, Rebecca finally decided to join the conversation, “Mustang can take care of himself, and he didn't tell us where he is because he wants to be _alone.”_

Jean scoffed, but the fire in his argument had guttered a bit, she had a point, “He shouldn’t be alone, not right now. He needs to grieve, and he's not doing anyone any favors by distancing himself, you all saw him when they wheeled her body in, I thought the man was gonna drop dead right there.”

The team nodded in agreement. They’d never seen their general like that, even in the face of certain death.

“Maybe he's not alone”, Breda said, draining the dregs of his coffee, “He does have family in the city, after all.”

“Shit, I forgot about Chris and the girls”, Havoc swore, standing up, “I’ll go check with them and see if he’s there.” He moved to grab his coat from the back of his chair.

“Jean Havoc, don’t you dare”, Rebecca scolded, pointing a spatula at him threateningly, “He obviously wants to be alone, so you're going to leave him be, and eat the lunch that Fuery and I have been slaving over while all you’ve done is argue.”

Havoc froze, he wasn’t used to being talked to like that. _It’s kinda hot,_ an unhelpful voice whispered in his head. He opened his mouth unsure of what exactly to say, but thought better of it, and returned to his seat at the table. Rebecca returned to her work, seemingly intent to labor in silence, when the front door came slamming open. Roy Mustang strode into the kitchen a moment later, breathing heavily, Black Hayate at his side.

A chorus of replies greeted him.

“Where the _hell_ have you been?”, hissed Havoc, just as Breda, Falman and Fuery chorused, “Welcome back, sir.”

“What's wrong?” Rebecca asked, taking note of the General’s frantic eyes.

Roy took a second to catch his breath, his watched him in silence.

“Hawkeye is still alive”, he said, an anxious happiness took hold of his features as he spoke.

The team stared at him, disbelief, worry, and surprise danced across their faces. No one spoke for a moment as they all absorbed the information. 

Jean felt worry begin to creep up his throat. _He’s definitely not grieving properly,_ Havoc thought to himself, _he's still in denial. We need to be careful with how we approach subject, handling it badly could cause more harm than good._

“Bullshit”, Havoc said, breaking the silence. 

_Nice_ , he mentally kicked himself, _real good job handling it carefully._

Roy shook his head, pulling a file out of the duffel bag at his side, “No, it’s true, I’ll show you.”

Slapping the file onto the table in front of him, Roy pulled out a few pages, and began to point out his evidence. 

“The blood type and height are wrong, and the body diagram is missing a few identifiable features. Whoever was in that coffin, it’s not Hawkeye.”

Everyone crowded around the table to look at the report, lunch had been forgotten. The team exchanged glances, it was clear that they were skeptical, the evidence was flimsy at best, it wasn’t enough to negate the fact that a coroner had already identified Riza’s body. But no one seemed to want to be the one to point that out to Roy, whose eyes were burning with a fire that Havoc had rarely seen before.

It was Falman who spoke up first, “Sir, this really isn’t enough evidence to base such a claim, for several reasons. Riza’s blood type is B+, but the report just says “B” that doesn’t mean much, especially since the autopsy was a rush job. As for the height, she did burn in that explosion, bodies shrink significantly when they burn.”

“I know full well what fire does to a body”, Roy snapped, “But that still doesn’t explain why there are markings missing.”

“Sir, she did burn”, Breda stepped in, “it’s likely that the whatever markings you're referring to were lost.”

Roy shook his head, “You guys don’t understand, there's no way the whole thing is gone, especially when you look at what areas were burned.”

Havoc squinted at the general, he was growing tired of this delusion, “What do you mean, exactly?”

Roy stalled for a moment, seemingly unsure how to respond, “Uh, well... You see, Hawkeye had a rather large, uhm, marking across her back.”

Havoc’s eyes narrowed further, “What kind of marking? And if it’s on her back, how do you know about it?”

The general had regained his composure enough to wave off his second lieutenant, “Now’s not the time for the context, what's important is that whatever body we are about to bury doesn’t belong to Riza.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Well _I_ do. She’s alive. I know it.”

“Roy stop this, you're acting delusional.” Havoc spoke sternly as he tried to pull Roy to sit down.

Roy wrenched out of Havoc’s grip, “She’s alive, Jean.”

“No, she’s not, Roy. You're in denial. You need to face that fact, you need to accept that she’s dead and begin to move on.”

“No, you don’t understand.”

_“Of course, we understand!”_ , Jean spoke, his voice rising, all the sadness and rage that had built up these last few days was beginning to spill over, “She was our friend too! You think we aren’t grieving? Or are you too lost in your own delusions to see that?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Roy protested.

“Then what did you mean? Why don’t you enlighten us!?” Havoc’s voice was beginning to grow louder, he was pissed. How _dare_ Roy push them all away, as if they all hadn’t been through hell together. 

Roy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat down at the table, the rest of the team followed, all finding chairs of their own. Rebecca turned off the stove, as the smell of burnt onions was already beginning to permeate the air.

“As I'm sure you all are somewhat aware, Hawkeye and I have a uh... a _history._ I knew her before we enlisted in the military, I won't give you all the details, that’s her story to tell, but I will tell you that she bares a very distinct, very large, mark on her back. One that would have been noted in a coroner’s report.”

Havoc raked a hand through his hair, not quite ready to give in, “The autopsy was a rush job, they may have only marked injuries, we can't just assume that she’s alive based on the rushed observations of some doctor guy.”

Roy opened his mouth, but Rebecca was the one to cut him off, “Look I'm gonna stop this conversation before it inevitably turns into a shouting match. Roy’s theory may sound crazy, but you forget Riza and I were in the same training troop. She was good at hiding it, but I saw glimpses of the tattoo on her back, it was big enough to be noted on a coroner’s report. And even if this is all just a wild goose chase, we owe it to Riza to see it through, otherwise we will always regret it. Besides, of all the things we’ve seen, a faked death is far from the craziest.”

Havoc looked at her in concern, he’d seen what losing Riza had done to her, and he could see the hope shining in her eyes now. He didn't want to see the disappointment that would inevitably follow.

“This isn’t the right way to grieve, Becca.” He said.

“Oh, and you're such an expert on healthy coping mechanisms, huh?” she shot back.

Havoc scoffed at her statement, but couldn’t exactly argue with it.

Roy stood, and looked Havoc dead in the eyes. “I won't be able to grieve, not until I know for sure. There's only one way to do that.”

Fuery paled at his words, “You don’t mean...”

“Yeah, Kain. It looks like we’re going to have to pay a visit to the morgue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the pandemic and my summer job left me with little motivation for writing, so I wrote a number of chapters out of order, of all the chapters ive worked on, this chapter was the one I procrastinated on the longest. But since my Covid test came back positive, im on quarantine, so I have plenty of time to get caught up now!
> 
> but there is a silver lining to it...
> 
> since I have a number of chapters done, and since the the voting was so close, ill be posting up to Riza's chapter (and a little after), as a sort of "sorry it took me so long".
> 
> as always I love to hear from y'all! thanks for reading!


	10. A Third Opinion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Field trip to the morgue everyone! yay!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the chapter that killed my progress for a month. not because it was particularly hard to write or anything, but because my dumb ass accidentally overwrote the finished chapter when I updated Microsoft word. I gave up on writing for a little bit after that incident.
> 
> Dr. Knox makes an appearance!
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Roy drove, the rest of the team, including Black Hayate, piled into the other seats in his car. The ride was silent, tense. 

Or at least it was for the first half. Fuery, who it seemed couldn’t stand the silence, decided to start up any conversation he could think of.

“So... where did you go last night, General?”, the Master Sergeant asked innocently. 

“Yeah, I'd like to know that myself”, Havoc said, sounding a bit miffed.

Roy sighed, it didn't take a genius to tell that Havoc was pissed at him, but they had bigger fish to fry at the moment, “Not that it’s any of your guys’ business, but I went to visit Chris and the girls. They deserved to be informed about Hawkeye. Though, it comes as no surprise that they already knew.”

“How were they?”, Catalina answered, trying her best to keep the conversation light.

“They're well, a few of them took the news harder than I had expected. I kinda rushed out on them this morning, didn't get a chance to talk to some of them.”

And with that, that particular path of conversation died, but Kain wasn’t quite ready to suffer in silence quite yet. 

“So, what's the plan for the morgue sir? What if there are people there? Should one of us go in first to distract them?”

Mustang shot Fuery a confused look in the rear view, “I'm a high ranking general in the state military Kain, I'm pretty sure I can just request to view the body.”

Fuery balked for a second, “Oh”, he gave an anxious chuckle, “I guess I'm just used to having to sneak around. And hide from the Top Brass.”

Roy smiled wryly, “Well, as far as I can tell there's no reason for this to be a secret, at least not from any of the higher ups. Besides, being a part of the Top Brass does have its perks.”

Despite that the conversations kept dying, Fuery had yet to exhaust all of his discussion topics. In the time it took them to arrive at their destination, he had spoken to Falman about the northern weather, to Rebecca about the farmers market, and to Breda about the changes in the new standard issue radios.

Roy was thankful for the blissful silence that fell upon the team as then exited the car. Fuery was a good man, but he was a bit of a nervous talker.

As they wound their way to the medical examiner’s office, they passed a number of other officers, some of whom offered their condolences to Roy and his team. It seemed that the loss of first lieutenant Riza Hawkeye would be felt throughout the country. There were even rumors that she would receive a posthumous promotion, though nothing was official yet.

Despite the well-meaning of their sympathies, Roy only felt worse with each one. By the time they reached their destination, he was dreading talking to any more people, but there was only an attendant sitting at the front desk, twirling a pencil lazily. He looked up when the team entered, seemingly startled to have visitors.

Roy took the lead, deciding to get right to the point, “Who do I talk to about confirming the identity of a body?”

The attendant raised his eyebrows, “I guess that would be me, Dr. Knox isn’t on duty today. But, I’m sorry, you must be mistaken, there aren’t any bodies in need of identification.”

Roy shook his head, “Perhaps I should clarify, I need to _reaffirm_ the identity of a body. First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.”

“Ah, yes. The Fuhrer’s granddaughter. She arrived here early yesterday morning. Her identity was confirmed before her arrival.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“So, even though the body has been identified, you still want us to double check? I'm not sure what else we can do, there's not a lot to compare dental records to, and there were no fingerprints left intact.” 

Roy swallowed the nausea that rose in his throat at those words, “I was thinking more along the lines that _we_ could help to confirm the identity of the body.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Because we have reason to suspect that the body has been misidentified”, Roy said, frustration creeping into his voice.

“So, you think there's been a mistake?”

“Yes, new information has come to light, and it seems there's been a mistake,” Roy said as his temper flared, this conversation did not need to be happening, “Now if you would please just allow us to view the body, then we can get this all over with.”

The attendant bristled at Roy’s change in tone, “Look, I don’t care what kind of information you’ve received, I’m not calling Dr. Knox in on his day off just because some weirdo wants to look at a dead chick, you'll need permission from the higher ups. Come back again when you have explicit _written_ permission.” He finished smugly, as if he’d just won some kind of argument.

Blood boiling, Roy reached over the desk and ripped a sheet of paper from a notepad, taking a pen from his pocket he wrote:

_“Take us to the body.  
Signed,  
General Roy Mustang”_

After signing his name with a flourish, he handed the note back to the attendant, who shot him a baleful look before retrieving his glasses from the desk beside him. He paled as he read the signature, and looked up at Roy, flicking his eyes to the side to count the number of stars on the General’s shoulders.

Roy’s face remained stone cold, “Can we view the body now? Or do you need the Fuhrer’s signature as well?”

The attendant gulped, “I’m not authorized to handle the bodies, but I’ll call Dr. Knox right away, sir.” He gave a hasty salute before scurrying away. As he left, he could be heard muttering under his breath, “I should really stop taking my glasses off at work.”

The team made themselves comfortable in the waiting room. Roy leaned against the wall, closing his eyes as he tried to sort out his thoughts. After a few minutes the attendant returned, reporting that Dr. Knox was on his way, and would arrive shortly.

The silence in the waiting room was heavy and awkward. The attendant seemed scared to even breathe in Roy’s direction. The rest of the team seemed to be uncomfortably sitting on words unsaid. In the end it was Havoc that spoke out first. It seemed that in Hawkeye’s absence, Jean was the one to call Roy out on his bullshit.

“I can't believe we’re doing this”, Havoc muttered, scrubbing his face with his hands.

“I have to know”, Roy said.

Havoc threw his hands up in exasperation, “Why can't we just grieve like normal people? Not everything is a crazy conspiracy! Sometimes things just go wrong. Sometimes friends die. Our line of work can get dangerous. That doesn’t mean that everything is a conspiracy, it just means that sometimes we have to say goodbye too early.”

“Jean”, Roy said quietly, fixing his second lieutenant with a stare, “I am fully aware that people in our line of work die. Don’t you ever think I'm ignorant to that fact.”

Havoc balked at the venom in the general’s words, “You know that’s not what I meant, sir. I'm just saying that maybe you’re taking the bargaining stage of grief a little too seriously, and it’s likely to get you, and everyone around you, hurt even more in the long run.”

Roy sighed, too tired to argue, “I understand that this is probably not the right way to grieve. But if I'm right then we need to do everything we can to make sure we don’t have to mourn just yet. We all know that stranger things have happened.”

Jean chuckled humorlessly, “Yeah, stranger things.”

Roy watched Havoc, he could tell that the man was still bothered by the past. Their run-ins with the homunculus seemed to have left Jean yearning for a time when his work wasn’t entrenched in conspiracy. Roy could relate to that, he could understand the desire for a life without the gut-wrenching twists and turns that often accompanied their line of work, but he was in too deep to go back now, they all were.

He looked around the room, taking in his subordinates, his friends. He could see how tired they all were. Guilt gnawed at him, he hadn’t been the only one in mourning these past few days, they had needed him, and he’d run off to drink at his aunt’s bar.

Roy took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been absent lately. I know that no one here has had an easy time these past few days. But I want you to know, that whatever answer we receive, I promise, that from here on out, we’re in this together.”

He held Havoc’s eyes as he finished talking. The second lieutenant gave him a grim smile, it seemed his apology was accepted, for now.

The team was silent, Fuery looked like he was on the verge of tears again. Before anyone could formulate a response, Dr. Knox arrived.

“What’s the meaning of all this?” the Doctor griped, “Believe it or not, I had plans today.”

Roy stood, greeting the doctor with a wry expression, “I’ll give you one guess.”

Knox’s expression turned solemn, “I heard about Lieutenant Hawkeye when they brought her in. My condolences, General. What can I do for you? The kid wasn’t exactly specific when he called me in.”

“We have reason to believe that the lieutenant’s remains have been misidentified. We wanted to confirm for ourselves whether or not our suspicions are founded.”

Dr. Knox raised an eyebrow, looking around the waiting room, “You all want to see the body?”

Roy cut in before anyone else could speak, addressing his team, “I’m the only one who can identify her with any certainty, you don’t have to come in with me.”

“With all due respect, sir”, Breda said, “but you’ve got to be a real dumbass if you think we aren’t going to see this through.”

“Yeah”, Havoc chimed in, “What happened to “We’re in this together”?”

“Well, I don’t care who comes in, so long as you leave the dog outside”, Dr. Knox said as he pushed through the doors to the morgue.

Roy looked to Black Hayate, who had been seated beside him, “Sorry boy, looks like you’ll have to keep watch out here”, he said as he removed the dog’s leash.

“Stay”, he commanded. The dog sat obediently, rooted to the spot.

Once Black Hayate was settled, they followed the doctor through the double doors behind the desk and into the morgue. The smell of death and disinfectant permeated the air.

“The body was being prepared for burial, you’ll have to wait here a moment while I get a viewing table ready.”

The anxiety that Roy had successfully suppressed until now began to worm its way into his stomach. If he was wrong– _No. She’s alive. She has to be._

“This feels wrong”, said Falman, shifting nervously, “disrespectful.”

“Now’s not the time to be chickening out Falman”, Havoc said, “I thought your time up north would have toughened you up a little more.”

“Look, if Roy ends up being wrong, then Riza is too dead to care how we mourn. But if he’s right, then I'm sure she’s not gonna mind”, Catalina said, “Our intentions are in her best interest. There's nothing disrespectful about it.”

It wasn’t long until Dr. Knox appeared once more, beckoning them into an area that had been curtained off.

“I feel like I should warn you”, the doctor said, “since the funeral was planned to be closed casket, there wasn’t a lot of effort into making her look peaceful.”

The rest of the team looked confused, but Roy understood. He’d seen up close what happened to a body as it burned, and he’d read the coroner’s report, it was very likely they were about to behold a rather gruesome scene.

Rounding the curtain his suspicions were confirmed, beneath a clean cotton sheet laid a twisted figure. Contorted joints stuck out at odd angles from the beneath the sheet. The smell of ash began to creep into the air.

Catalina took in a sharp breath. Havoc looped an arm around her, both to support her as well as himself, “shit”, he murmured as he took in the body on the table before them. 

Roy steeled his nerves, not allowing himself to even consider the possibility that it was his lieutenant under that sheet. Stepping forward he looked to Dr. Knox, who was waiting expectantly on the other side of the observation table.

“How would you like to go about this?”

Roy swallowed thickly, “If you could show me her back, please.”

The doctor nodded solemnly, then gingerly removed the sheet from the upper half of the body.

Falman and Fuery barely made it to the trash can before they lost their lunches. Catalina closed her eyes as Havoc pulled her to him, looking away. Breda and Roy were the only two who watched, taking in the charred skin and tense, contorted limbs.

Roy’s hands were fisted and shaking at his sides.

Thankfully, her face remained covered by another cloth, sparing them from further trauma.

Roy held his breath as Dr. Knox gently rotated the body towards himself, leaving the back clearly exposed.

Her back, like the rest of her body, was significantly charred, but a swath of clearly un-inked skin shown just between her shoulders.

Roy’s body shuddered with relief, his legs shook so badly that he almost had to sit down, gripping the edge of a nearby table, he steadied himself. Dr. Knox quickly covered the body back up, seemingly mistaking the general’s reaction for grief.

The rest of the team looked on in concern, after a moment, Roy composed himself enough to speak, “It’s not her. Whoever that is it’s not my first lieutenant.”

Dr. Knox balked, “Are you sure?”

Straightening, Roy shook his head, “I'm sure”, he answered, “there's no way that the woman under that sheet is Riza Hawkeye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always I would love to hear from y'all! Riza's chapter is up next.
> 
> thanks for reading!


	11. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> time to find out what Riza has been up to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for this chapter I initially wrote a bunch of flashbacks that were intended to be a fever dream, but the chapter felt really clunky and odd when I included them so I decided to leave them out.
> 
> However, I still liked the scenes, and I spent too much time on them to simply delete them, so I made a fic specifically for the flashbacks and willl be including it in a collection with this fic . None of the scenes are overly important to the overall plot, but I like to think they enrich it a little bit, and help to establish Riza’s relationships with other people.
> 
> hope you enjoy!

The enduring ache in her head began to pull the world into focus. Her whole body throbbed, and Riza bit back a groan as she tried to move. 

Her eyes cracked open. The light from the lamp on her bedside table was blinding, but she forced herself to look around the room. A difficult feat, since moving her head took an enormous amount of effort. She was displeased to find herself surrounded by what appeared to be makeshift medical curtains.

Though her ears rang she and her sight was growing dimmer by the moment, she was able to hear well enough beyond the partition. Distantly, as if through an echo chamber, she could overhear a woman’s voice, her accent was unmistakably Drachman.

“—hope you're right, she’ll need to be inordinately strong to survive the night. The men who found her thought she was dead.”

“She was dead”, another voice said, this one louder and rougher, than the woman’s, “we couldn’t find a heartbeat, her whole body felt like ice.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing our medic works quickly. Let me know if—“ 

Whatever the woman was going to say was swallowed by the darkness that engulfed Riza’s vision once again. Her mind lost to visions of freezing cold and raging flame.

~~~~~~~~~~

As if brought to life by her dreams, the smell of smoke pulled her back to consciousness. The sound of a crackling fireplace reached her ears before she was even fully awake.

She couldn’t help but groan as she opened her eyes, the lamplight beside her still felt unbearably bright. Her body could barely move, and her head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton.

A hand rested on her forehead, and a gentle voice spoke to her left, “You're not out of the woods just yet, but it looks like your body temperature is returning to normal. That’s a feat in and of itself, you were practically frozen when they brought you in.”

With significant effort, Riza managed to turn her head towards the man who spoke. 

He was about her age, maybe a little older, with kind eyes and dark brown skin. His hair was buzzed short, and he looked tired. He wore a patched-up red sweater, with a pair of reading glasses tucked into the neckline. 

She recognized the man, but couldn’t quite place him, she fought through the fog in her mind as she tried to remember where she knew him from.

He gave her a reassuring smile as he tilted her head forward and brought a ladle of water to her lips. Riza hadn’t realized just how thirsty she was until that moment, she hadn’t had any water since the afternoon of her abduction. _How long ago had that been?_ She thought to herself absently.

“You almost died of hypothermia, we can't have you suffering from dehydration as well”, he paused as she drank, “that being said, you may want to pace yourself. There is such a thing as overhydration.” He said as he pulled the ladle away, she wanted to protest, but couldn’t find the energy.

Darkness was once again swarming her vision, but she was able to speak anyway.

“...Who are—?”

“No need to worry about that, lieutenant Hawkeye. You're in good hands now.”

Riza just had time to recognize him before she lost consciousness again.

This time her dreams reeked of gunpowder and blood, both new and old.

~~~~~~~~

Riza woke up with a violent shudder, her back drenched in sweat.

She was still laying in the unfamiliar bed, smothered under a mound of heavy blankets. The heat was stifling. Her whole body felt heavy, but she was able to sit up and push her blankets off of her. Looking around, Riza was able to take in her surroundings for the first time.

Her bed was pushed against a wall to her right. To her left, just beyond the bedside table, was the curtain she had seen earlier. The man, Alfredo, was nowhere in sight. Riza paused, listening for any signs of life. She heard nothing but the distant crackle of a fireplace.

_Now or never._

Her body protested as began to get out of bed, and the room spun as she placed her feet on the floor. She was pleasantly surprised to find that her feet were still clad in a pair of wool socks, and that she was still wearing an insulating pair of leggings. Turning her attention to the bedside dresser, she rummaged through the drawers, hoping to find a heavy object, or even a wire, anything useful. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed when she found them empty. 

She gripped the edge of the dresser as her vision began to darken. Her legs were already beginning to shake. She was in no condition to be up right now.

The room was still spinning when the oil lamp on the dresser caught her eye. She gingerly touched the glass cover, it was cool, the light had been extinguished for some time now. Carefully removing the cover from the lamp, she wrapped it in one of the bed’s many quilts and began to squeeze as hard as she could.

The glass gave way with a muffled _snap._ Riza smiled grimly to herself, it wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. Selecting the three largest shards, she tucked one into the waistband of her leggings, and palmed the other two.

Just as she was rolling the rest of the glass back into the quilt, a door banged open, voices echoed throughout the room. Riza froze, she didn't dare move, despite the curtain that concealed her from view.

A woman’s voice was speaking, her Drachman accent heavy, “I agree with Elmswood. We need to make sure she is stable before we start any interrogation.”

A gruff voice responded, causing Riza’s blood to run cold, she recognized that voice. Bernthal.

_Guess it was too much to expect him to die that easily._ She thought, disappointed.

“And I told you. We don’t need to interrogate anything outta her. She has the answers on her back.”

“She has _your_ answers on her back. Your alchemical goose hunt is insignificant. I still have many of my own questions that need answering.”

Bernthal growled, “With that breed of alchemy, everything else becomes trivial.”

The woman matched his tone, “Need I remind you who is in charge here. Without me here, without my resources, you would be nothing more than a disgraced drunk holed up in the mountains. So, I would watch my mouth if I were you, because your little quest ends the minute you stop being useful to me.”

A tired voice chimed in, “You guys should really keep it down when you argue like this. I'm not sure how the others would take it if they heard you.

“Keep out of this ‘Fredo.”

“Oh, shut it Bern, you're just pissy that she sided with me. Besides, you'll need her awake as well, I saw the array you were talking about, and it’s been burned to shit, you won't get much information off of it as it is.”

Riza felt a twinge of pride, Roy had known what he was doing when he had burned it all those years ago.

“Well then, how long will it be til she wakes up?”

Alfredo hummed in uncertainty, “She was pretty out of it when I was tending to her earlier today. Even with alchemy speeding her recovery, it could be a few days.”

The three were quiet for a few moments, the sound of footsteps could be heard. Riza didn't have time to react by the time she realized they were headed towards her. 

The curtain opened and Riza lunged.

Alfredo let out a yelp as she pulled him into a chokehold and pressed the point of her glass shard against his jugular. His flailing hands stilled as she pressed the point harder into throat, cutting into his skin. He was taller than her, so much so that he had to bend at an odd angle so as to prevent her from stabbing him.

Once she was sure Alfredo wouldn’t resist she turned her attention to the other two people in the room.

Bernthal stood closest to her, his cold blue eyes were bloodshot and angry. It wasn’t hard to tell he was livid.

The woman was standing at a table a few feet away from Bernthal. Riza recognized her, she was the woman who had listened in on her interrogation the morning of her escape attempt.

The three stared in silence for a tense minute.

Bernthal was the one to speak first, “Well, it looks like you're awake. Now we can get down to business. I’m sure you're eager to know why you're here.”

“I don’t particularly care why I'm here, I'd much rather discuss how you're going to let me go.”

Bernthal laughed, “And why would we let you go? Because you got Alfredo? That’s not much of a bargaining chip.”

The door opened once again, two more men entered the room, eyeing her warily.

Bernthal continued, “Besides, what's your plan after you kill ‘Fredo? You think you can take the rest of us? Cuz I can see your legs shaking from here, and I can guarantee you don’t have the juice for a fight right now.”

He was right, Riza knew it. Her body was tired, and the strength she was using to hold alfredo in place was draining her very quickly. She wasn’t going to make it out of this by force.

“I’ll tell you what, you let our man go, and we’ll do our best not to injure you further. Or kill him for all I care, just know that if he leaves a stain on the rug, we’ll be taking it out on you.”

Riza’s gaze moved from Bernthal to the woman at the table, she watched everything unfold with detached disinterest. Their eyes met, gazes seemingly locked in a contest of wills. It was Riza who gave in first. Dropping the shard of glass, she released Alfredo, who wheeled away from her the moment her grip loosened.

As soon as Alfredo was out of range, the men who had entered the room from behind her each grabbed an arm. She didn't resist, even as they roughly bound her hands in rope, her eyes remained locked with the Drachman’s.

“Put her in the stables for the night”, the woman said, giving Riza a chilling smile, “We’ll start our work in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, I'd love to hear from you!
> 
> the flashbacks will be in a fic called "Retracing the Past". hopefully i'll be able to get it all set up tonight or tomorrow.
> 
> thanks for reading.


	12. Another Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> now that the team knows Hawkeye is alive, they make moves towards finding her. Roy gets a phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! sorry I've been radio silent for so long. rest assured I have not abandoned this work (ive just been working out of order, the later chapters are done).  
> Covid, college, and a broken hand have really affected my work pace, hopefully with the end of the semester coming up, I'll have more time in the coming month.
> 
> this chapter has been done for about over a month now, but I had intended on making it longer, so I never posted it, but you've all waited long enough.
> 
> thanks to everyone leaving comments! hope you enjoy!

The team stared at their General, absorbing what he’d just said.

Havoc broke the silence first, “You're sure?”

Roy nodded, “100%. That’s not Hawkeye.”

“Then who is it?”, Dr. Knox asked, brows furrowed.

“No idea”, Roy said, “All I know is that someone went to great lengths to fake lieutenant Hawkeye’s death.”

The team was silent as they considered what Roy had just said.

“So, what do we do now?”, Rebecca asked, her eyes burning with determination.

“We need to tell the Fuhrer, he—”

“No”, Roy said, stopping Fuery before he could say any more, “I don’t want to go to the Fuhrer until we have something more concrete. We don’t know why they took Hawkeye, or why they went to such lengths to cover their tracks. We need to be careful, and we need answers.”

Breda understood immediately, “Guess it’s time to question a few prisoners.”

Roy met the lieutenant’s eyes with a grin, “You read my mind. Let’s get to work.”

The team began to file out of the morgue, but Dr. Knox called after them, “Wait, what the hell am I supposed to do!?”

“Get back to enjoying your day off”, Roy called over his shoulder, slipping out the door before the doctor could protest.

Roy slipped the leash back onto Black Hayate as soon as they entered the waiting room. The team fell into step around him as they walked down the hallway.

“What's the plan?” Havoc asked as they began to make their way into the heart of central command.

“The prisoners have been kept in separate cells. Keep them apart, I don’t want them—”

“General Mustang!” He was cut off by an aide appearing in the hallway.

Mustang turned his attention to the woman, who appeared slightly out of breath.

“I'm glad I caught you, you have a phone call, sir.”

“From whom?”

“He didn't identify himself, but he had a direct line to central command, so he must be important.”

“Tell them I'm busy.”

“With all due respect, sir, he said you would say that and, uh, pardon my language, sir, told me to tell you to get your ass to the phone because you owe them a goddamn phone call.”

Roy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, he had a pretty good idea of who it was, and unless he wanted to deal with a whole mess of new problems, it was probably best he find a phone.

Turning to his team he said, “You all know the drill. Keep them separated, try to find out which ones are going to be more willing to talk. And find out who’s in charge.”

The team saluted him and left to carry out his orders. Hayate remained by his side as he followed the aide to the communications center. They made no conversation on the way, which Roy was immensely thankful for, a man could only take so many empty condolences before he was ready to snap.

Once they reached their destination, she showed him to one of the more secluded phone booths.

“He should still be on the line, he said he was more than willing to wait.”

Roy snorted wryly, “An unusual display of patience for him, I'm sure.”

The aide said nothing, giving him a polite smile as she returned to the front desk.

Once he was alone Roy picked up the receiver.

“Fullmetal”, he greeted, knowing that the conversation was only going to get worse from here.

There was a fumbling noise over the phone, before the voice on the other end responded.

“Hello, Colonel Bastard. So nice of you to answer my call.”

Hearing Fullmetal’s voice immediately sent Roy back to his old snarky habits, before he could stop himself, he replied, “Oh, didn't you get the news? I was promoted to General. I haven’t been a colonel for quite some time now.

“Oh. My mistake, _General_ Bastard. I’ll make sure to use the proper title next time I decide to contact your sorry ass.”

The conversation was going better than Roy had expected, not that he was helping matters by beating around the bush, “To what do I owe the pleasure of your call Fullmetal?”

“Oh, I don’t know” Ed said in his classically snarky manner, “Why would I be calling you? What possible reason could I have to call the Great General Asshole on a day like today. I don’t know. Maybe cuz it’s unseasonably cold? Or maybe it has to do with the obituaries that were in today’s paper?” Anger had begun to seep into Ed’s voice as he spoke.

“So, you still receive a copy of the Central Times?”

“Of course, we do! How else are we supposed to know when our friends have been killed! Because apparently a little phone call or heads up is too much to ask! Are you fucking serious!? We had to find out that Hawkeye died through the newspaper! Winry and Al have been crying into their tea for hours! How could you not tell us? After everything? After Hughes? We care about her too! You had no right to keep us in the dark.

The sadness in that last sentence broke Roy a little bit. He’d been so consumed with his own grief that he hadn’t even spared a thought for the Elric brothers. Guilt began to gnaw at him. It had been months since he’d last seen either of them, Ed came to Roy to test out a theory every now and then, and he hadn’t seen Al since he had visited East City on his way back from Xing a few months ago. Despite the distance, Roy was still immensely fond of the little twerps, and the thought of having caused them pain made his chest hurt.

“I'm sorry”, Roy said, trying to clear his throat when his voice caught, “I've been so caught up in everything I didn't even think to contact you.”

Ed’s anger seemed to balk at the sadness in Roy’s voice, but there was still a bitterness in his voice as he spoke, “Save your apologies for the funeral, or better yet, put your money where your mouth is and book us a decent hotel.”

Roy's stomach churned uncomfortably, with all that had just transpired in the morgue, he’d practically forgotten about the funeral. “I'd stave off buying train tickets just yet if I were you. There have been some developments, and it turns out the funeral may be... premature.”

Ed got quiet. So quiet that for a moment, Roy thought that the phone had cut out. But eventually the young man spoke, his voice low and lethal.

“Mustang. If you so much as even think about performing human transmutation so help me I will—"

Roy balked. He probably should have worded that sentence better. Stumbling over his words, Roy corrected himself, “No—no that’s not at all what I meant. Listen, this stays between us, and I can't give any specifics yet because we don’t know much right now. Just know that no matter what the papers say, we aren’t burying the lieutenant tomorrow.”

Ed paused, as if taking in what Roy had just said, sorting through the pretense to get to the actual meaning. After a stretch of silence, he spoke, “Okay. We won't be coming to Central, but if plans change, you'll let us know, right? We won't be finding out from the newspaper again?”

“You have my word that I will contact you personally. No matter the outcome.”

“You better, or else Al and I will tear central command apart so we can find you and kick your ass.”

Roy gave a weary chuckle, “I’d expect nothing less from the two of you. Take care, Fullmetal. Give my best to Al and Winry.

“Will do. Take care, General Bastard.”

And with that the line went dead. Hanging up the phone, Roy allowed himself a moment. Time had been a horrible blur ever since he received that first phone call, and now that he had a real, concrete reason to hope again, it was as if his body and mind were finally falling back into step with one another. However, as the fog of grief cleared, he began to realize just how tired he was. 

A moment of peace was all he needed. Roy left the way he came, thanking the communications clerk as he made his exit, Black Hayate at his side.

~~~~~~~~~~

Lieutenant Breda greeted him when he arrived to the detention center, “We looked through the files Briggs provided and found which one is supposedly the guy in charge. According to the files his name is August Reed. We have yet to confirm his citizenship, so it is likely a fake name.”

“What in the files led you to believe that he was the leader?”

“He offered the information up when Briggs was processing them.”

“So, he’s either an idiot, or he's covering for someone.”

Breda nodded in agreement, “It would appear that way, yes.”

“Well then”, Roy sighed, “Let’s get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing an angry ed was fun, I should do it more often.
> 
> thanks for reading! as always I love to hear from y'all. <3


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